Truth and Lies
by Fayrandothneil
Summary: Lies are meant to keep people happy, but what happens when the truth is revealed? Do you really know the people you thought you knew best? Panic and pandimonium play out in Danny's life as he sorts through everything he thought he had once all figured out
1. Chapter 1

**_This is just kind of an experiment. I've noticed that when I'm just goofing off, I get good stuff coming out of my head. So this has no solid plot and I'll write it as the wind takes me. I actually threw a lot of semi ideas I had written down a long time ago and threw them all together, so it's a big mesh of smaller ideas really. Anyway, just let me know what you think. The chapters are long since I'm trying to keep it to a four or five part story. Happy reading!_**

* * *

**Truths and Lies—Part 1**

My life is complicated, with being a ghost hybrid and having ghost hunters as parents and all of the rest of it. First off, I don't even know if I'm dead, alive, or something in between—as impossible as that sounds. Not knowing if I'm even alive anymore has really taken a toile on my mind, and maybe even my sanity. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm sane anymore.

I don't fear death—of course I face the undead every day, plus I may not even be alive so I don't have to worry about dying anyway, if that is the case. My mind works differently than it had three years ago—no, I had always thought this way, I just never thought like this all of the time. I had been the clumsy kid in the background that everyone ignored; the kid that was too afraid to say something because he was afraid of being put down. I was now the confident mystery guy that always had something to say but wasn't sure if I would be wasting my time saying it at all. I could always read people alright, but ever since I gained my powers, I could read people better. It was probably their emotions clouding my senses, or it was because I had sharper sight and could tell the difference between a liar and a really good liar, whatever the case, I was different—or perhaps I was finally myself.

Ever since I was born, my parents had it all planned out for me. My whole life was a one way ticket to ghost hunting, although I guess nothing could have stopped that destiny. I had never wanted Fentonworks, I never wanted to be part of the family business. I wanted to go into space, find things that people had never found before, not chasing after something that didn't exist. Of course I didn't have the heart to tell my parents that; I was that last Fenton male after all. I didn't have any male cousins to take it over for me on Dad's side of the family, and Jazz wanted nothing to do with the company, so I was stuck with it.

Even though I was hunting ghosts now, I still didn't want it. The plan my parents had didn't appeal to me, it never had, but I didn't know what my future would be anymore. I had a clear cut plan before—get good grades, ace the ACT to get into a good college and put my past behind me, just like Jazz had, but fate intervened all of my planning when I was fourteen. Now I was a half-ghost freak with an even bleaker future then before if I did end up with Fentonworks.

Hybrids are a rare thing and—so far to people—impossible, but if any word got out and someone decided to act upon that idea, then my secret could be out and I would be taken to a lab for lots and lots of dangerous and painful experiments. I would be shunned by society, a mistake in their eyes, an accident that never should have happened. The government would have their way with me, experimenting and questioning—probably trying to make the perfect soldier—then when they were done with me—if I survived it all—I would he locked away for the rest of my existence in a cell, where I would be forgotten by all men, never to see the light of day again; and I wasn't sure if I could die of old age.

Needless to say, I was in a bind.

I wanted to find my own way so badly, but I couldn't see a path for me to take. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but space still appealed to me. Perhaps I could still go with my original plan, but I also had my hero responsibilities. I had become a guardian for this world, protecting it from the freaks of the Ghost Zone that slid their slimy hides back here every time I beat them back into their lairs. Plus, I had duties to my own guardian, Clockwork. I couldn't just ignore those duties, but I couldn't ignore the fact that I needed to plan my future as well.

I just didn't know how too, not any more with all of these complications in the way.

"Mr. Fenton."

I glanced up at Lancer lazily, my eyes fatigued from staring blankly into the text book for so long. Lancer only shook his head at me, seeming to be disappointed. I knew what he was disappointed about—me. He had always hoped that I would be the perfect prodigy that my sister had been, and I was, just in my own way—Lancer didn't like my way.

"I will not tolerate day-dreaming right now Daniel," Lancer told me strictly.

I bristled when he called me by my full name—I hated when people did that. I brought my emotions back under control; my head saying that I wouldn't get out of detention any sooner if I angered my teacher—or course my mouth and my brain didn't work together sometimes.

"It's detention, what else am I suppose to do?" I asked him, a little bitterly I might add, but I also couldn't help the smirk that came across my face.

Lancer just stared blankly at me, use to my witty and sarcastic remarks.

"How about studying for that test this Friday?" he intoned, turning back around to his desk.

I rolled my eyes while he wasn't looking—I had that test covered. One thing with ghost powers and being ready to fight for your life everyday—you have killer observation skills and a photographic memory of the things you desired to remember the most—that probably tied into the ghosts that were stuck here because of unfinished business. I would have to investigate that theory later, but right now, I really wanted to mess with Lancer.

"Is she pretty?" I asked him as he sat down.

"Huh?" he asks, taken off guard by my question.

"The woman you're dating?" I asked him differently. "Is she pretty?"

"How did you know that?" he asks, almost looking furious.

"Well, you've been giving lectures on love poems a lot more lately for one," I told him, ticking each fact off on my fingers. "Two, you've lost some weight, suggesting that you want to look your best for your lady friend. Three, that horrible odor you carry around is killer to both my nostrils and your chances of getting lucky. Four, you shaved your back hair—you don't have that little tuft sticking out of the back of your shirt collar anymore."

Lancer's mouth had dropped open, his face red—but from embarrassment or anger, I couldn't really tell. The clock on the wall ticked four and I got up from my place at the desk. I grabbed my bag, swinging it over my shoulder, and walked up to Lancer. I put my fingers under his jaw and pushed it up, hearing his teeth click together faintly.

"Try chocolates," I suggested as I made my way to the door, "women love chocolate, unless they're on a diet."

I walked out into the hall before he could call after me.

* * *

As was routine, I flew over to Sam's first to visit. Between school, my parents, her parents, and the ghosts, we barely had time to see each other anymore. I had tried very hard not to get a detention today, but fate was cruel and decided to cut into my free time again.

I ignored the door, as was my nature now, and phased into her bedroom wall. Sam's room was the only one not incased in pink and the only place she could be safe from her parents. I saw her at her desk, typing something on the computer—probably some project for school that I ignored as well.

"Miss me?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and kissing her cheek from behind.

She slapped my hands away, her black nails sharp and cold as they made contact. I was shocked and backed away from her. I was confused, normally she would welcome me with open arms, but she was being very cold at the moment. My light mood melted away and I became much more serious, but I tried to keep my light tone. With Sam, a calm smooth exterior was a better defense if she decided to become enraged.

"What's going on?" I asked her, walking up to the side of her head so she could at least glance at me from the corner of her eye—she didn't even grant me that curtsey. "What is going on Sam?"

She didn't talk, but kept her eyes glued to the screen of the monitor. I looked as well, but she was just in a chat room with Tucker. I couldn't even tell the last thing she typed to him. She shut down the site before I could make heads or tails of her screen. Okay, she was mad.

"Why are you mad at me?" I asked, but she swerved in her chair, keeping her back to me. "What? What did I mess up?"

Sam knew I messed things up, she knew I wasn't that reliable since I almost never made it to our dates on time because of ghosts, but she understood all of that. If I messed up, she either rolled her eyes or smiled, almost as if she enjoyed it. Only if my ego inflated from Phantom's popularity would she get angry with me, and I always made an effort to be humble, even in ghost form before the TV cameras and photo lenses.

"Sam, I don't know how to fix this if you don't tell me what's going on," I tried to reason with her, she always saw reason, but she was too angry to listen to me apparently since she made no move to acknowledge that I was even there. "Come on Sam, I'm desperate here."

Pleading: my last resort. Sam always hated to see me beg—but still nothing from her. This was getting tiring for me. I never had to work very hard to get along with Sam, but this was different. I could feel that she was upset, and very angry with me, so angry that I bet she was wondering what a ghost sounded like with a combat boot up its butt. I could also feel betrayal, but no jealousy, so what was that about?

"A little hint?" I asked, but she was as silent as ever.

Great, not even using my pleading voice was breaking her shell. She must really be upset. Suddenly, my advice to Lancer popped into my head, but Sam wasn't the kind of girl to forgive you if you put a treat under her nose. I loved that about her, but at the moment, I hated it.

One of her bulbs flared with green energy from my anger and broke, putting the ceiling above her head in darkness, she didn't even jump. I took a deep breath and turned towards the windows.

"I'll call you later, when you're in a talking mood," I told her, but I doubt she would bother to answer her phone if I did managed to call her tonight.

Maybe Tucker had an idea as to why she was like this.

* * *

"Dude, you don't know?" he asked me incredulously. "I know you can be clueless, but come on!"

We were in his room, his whole floor covered in cables and walls with gadgetry that I thought only existed in the movies. I was sitting on his bed, blue comforter sinking into the mattress as I folded my legs on it, and locked eyes with him.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" I asked him, ignoring his outburst.

"Sorry, man, but she made me swear not to tell you."

"What did she threaten you with this time?"

"I don't think it's humanly possible, but I believe she can pull it off," Tucker said, clicking something together and making it _whirr_ to life. "I kind of agree with her though, you should be able to figure this out by yourself."

"Can't you give me a hint?" I pleaded, I knew Tucker couldn't resist my desperate look and voice at the same time.

He hesitated, then he gave in, looking like he was going to hurt for this later if Sam found out.

"Check your calendar."

"What?" I quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's it? What good will that do me?"

"I can't tell you more, she'll kill me," Tucker whispered.

"She can't hear you Tuck."

"That's what you think."

I shook my head at him, rolling my eyes to the heavens. Tucker could be so paranoid.

"I'm going on patrol, you coming?" I asked him, already squatting by his window.

"Can't, I got family coming over tonight for dinner. Plus if I skip out on another meal, my mother is going to ground me until I graduate."

"I understand, I'll call when I get home, alright?"

"Sure dude."

I nodded my head at him and took off into the now dusky sky. I decided to start my patrol on the north side of town and work my way down south. There was something about the direction that soothed me, and my mind needed a little soothing at the moment.

I had Sam mad at me and I had no idea why. My parents were probably close to locking me up in my room and never letting me leave just to keep an eye on me. Lancer was probably going to kill me in school tomorrow if he thought I told people about his little romance. On top of that, Dash had become a little more violent in his bullying tactics against me. Sure I could take it, but it was becoming a little troublesome. Once he saw I wasn't intimidated by him anymore, who would he go after next? I would have to keep Dash focused on me, keep Fenton a little more spineless, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to do that anymore.

I might have been the same person, but Fenton and Phantom were two different sides to me, two different personalities, two masks. At first, Fenton was just Fenton and Phantom was just Phantom. I was Fenton and when I needed Phantom, he was there, ready to fight. He was like a medicine, taken only when needed to be taken. However, as the years passed and I became more confident, I noticed that Fenton was becoming less and less—a small fog of something I had been. Phantom was taking over—personality wise. Because of Phantom, Fenton didn't see the reason to be scared of Dash any more. He was fearless, determined, a little wreak-less yeah, but confident. Fenton had always been spineless, afraid, background noise. Being Phantom, I wasn't afraid to be background noise, I found its advantages; plus Phantom could come out of the woodwork if he wanted to and people listened to him, then he could melt back into the wall just as easily as he came out. Fenton was stuck in the wood, never to come out.

Over time, I began to realize that Fenton was being overshadowed by Phantom. Fenton had become the cover-up for my real self—which was Phantom. Fenton had become my mask and Phantom was my real-fleshy face. Fenton was becoming less and less as time went by. I was tired of being something I wasn't, but I also realized that I had never been Fenton, never wanted to be him. I think that, even if I hadn't gotten zapped by the portal, Phantom would have been there somehow. It probably would have taken a little more time is all.

The change hadn't become too evident until my teachers caught onto something. I still don't know what it was, perhaps a different look in my eye or the way I talked, but they saw it. Pretty soon, the whole school saw the difference in me and treated me a little differently. I was still the freak of course, but I was the respected freak. Kids cleared the way when I walked down the hall, they kept the three seats closest to the windows for me, Sam, and Tuck to sit in, they didn't bug us or bother to call us names anymore. It was odd, but flattering, for them to act this way.

Pretty soon, and I still don't know why people thought to do this, but people started to ask me stuff, thinking of me as some wise man or something. To be honest, some of the stuff was weird and not worth my time, but I couldn't just leave them hanging. My hero complex wouldn't allow it.

Now, I was the go-to guy; if somebody needed something badly enough, I would make it happen. Some of the happening was ghost related I will admit, but it was nothing dangerous. I was dependable, and the younger kids looked up to me to help them through the year, especially the freshmen. No one else stood up for the weaker or younger kid, I was the only one to do something about it. Soon enough, people started to follow my example, and I don't think I was the freak to them anymore. I was the strong guy in the background who just happened to listen and act.

That was all anybody needed, somebody to listen to, and I was good at that. I listened, I thought, I acted—just like 1, 2, 3 for me.

I circled around Amity General as the sun began to leave the sky, blackening the clouds with its absence. I phased through the wall on the children's floor and flew through the hallways, knowing that most of the kids were asleep already.

I found who I was looking for by room 368, a room with a terminally ill little girl. I knew Kat well, a bubbly twelve year old who loved soccer. Her dream was to make it to the Olympics someday, but her illness wouldn't allow her to do that. She had become steadily worse over the week and her doctors thought that she wouldn't make it to Christmas, which was only three months away.

I had visited Kat every day since I accidently stumbled into her room after a bout with Skulker left me dazed and with a dislocated shoulder. The nurse that had been in the room helped me out, and made me stay for a few hours until she was sure I was fine. Over those few hours, I got to know the kids here and my heart went out to them. Phantom made almost daily appearances here, sharing his stories and doing small displays with his powers for the kids.

It was all in secret of course, but the doctors found me to be a help around here, helping the kids get over the idea that they might die any day. In fact, the doctors saw that the kids' health really improved when I was around. No one had died in this hospital since Phantom came around actually. Sam and Tucker thought it was a ghost thing, and I thought it was too. I healed rapidly enough, who was to say that my healing powers didn't seep into other people? That was why I was here tonight, to try and help Kat.

I quietly slunk into the room, the beeping monitors being the only sound here. I saw that Kat's mother was in the chair next to the bed, looking worn and sad. Her eyes were red from crying, her skin blanched from the stress of it all. Her hair was in a frizzy disarray and her makeup looked only half done.

Her head bolted upward when she saw me. Normally, Kat's mother hated me. She had found out that I was visiting the kids and almost started a petition, but when she found out from the doctors that I was helping the kids, she kept her tongue in her head, but her eyes always glared daggers at my back. Right now, her face held nothing.

"What do you want? To take her soul away from her?" she asked me bitterly, but she was so tired that they came out in only a whisper.

"No," I said just as quietly, "I came by tonight to help."

"How can you possibly help her?"

I came closer to the bed, looking down on Kat's small frame. She had so many tubes and wires poking her that she almost looked more like an experiment then a patient. I took off my glove and laid my bare hand on Kat's forehead. I heard her mother take in a short breath, but she didn't say anything. I let my nature take over, the instinct to want to heal this girl took me over and I found myself bending closer to her face. I gently pried open Kat's mouth and blew into it, my cold breath seeping out as a green mist that floated down her throat.

"What are you doing?" Kat's mother asked me, almost shrieking.

Ignoring her, I shut Kat's mouth and kissed her forehead, being gentle not to wake her up. She shivered under my cold touch, but didn't wake.

"I'll come back in the morning to see how she's doing," I told her mother, pulling my glove back on as I did so.

I turned my back on them and started to go for the door when the mother's voice stopped me.

"Phantom, you're not a ghost," I turned to look at her in confusion—she couldn't possibly know the truth. "You're an angel."

I saw that she was holding Kat in her arms, the once fragile looking girl now had a healthy completion and was breathing normally. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I walked out just as I heard the doctors racing up the steps and rounded the corner by the time they made it up to the floor and into Kat's room. She would be alright now; she would make it through life—even if she didn't get to the Olympics.

* * *

I had just left the hospital when I had the feeling that I was being followed. My ears picked up the sound of rockets and I quickly twisted to the right. To large red beams from ecto-guns slid past me and landed in the street, creating two nice shallow craters in the asphalt.

"Great, just what I needed," I grumbled to myself as Valerie flew over my head, her jet-sled clear in my ears now.

"Get back here spook!" she yelled at me, probably whining up another shot in her gun.

I dodged the shot, letting it land in a tree. Valerie had become predictable in her hunting strategy. She was the shoot first ask never type of hunter and with that came the obvious idea that they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Valerie would hunt any other ghost carefully, like a hunter should do, but with me, it was an obsession that most ghosts would envy. When she saw me, she was all guns and no brains.

But she still had deadly aim.

I cried out as her next shot caught me in the back. I could feel the suit material start to burn away with my skin as I fell through the air like a jumper with no parachute. I tried to roll to break my fall, but I didn't have time. The ground met me like a hammer to a nail, no warning at all. I tumbled a few times down the hill and came to a rest at the base of it, trying to get back to my feet. I heard Valerie's sled come to a rest beside me. I heard her jump off and walk over to me, the grass crunching under her boots with each decisive step.

"I finally have you," she said darkly, aiming the gun at my head.

I looked up into her face, meeting her angry green eyes through her dark visor. She faulted for a moment, I don't think she ever looked me in the eyes as Fenton or Phantom, but she was now and I wonder what she saw there. I saw the gun shake slightly in her hand as she looked down on me, her eyes narrowing but she was having trouble with something.

"You don't have the guts do you?" I asked her, quirking an eyebrow at her.

True, she wanted to destroy me for years, but I was the only one that she wanted to obliterate. Other ghosts she just beat to a pulp and send back home, me—she wanted my after life is what she wanted. Right now however, she had me, probably just as she had dreamed this moment for three years, but she was finding it hard to pull the trigger. She thought she had the guts, but in the end, she didn't. She had never taken a life before and she didn't have the guts to do it.

I didn't have the guts either, but I never wanted to take a life before.

"I have plenty of guts!" she roared at me, pressing the gun to my temple, but nothing else happened.

"If you're going to do it, you better have the guts," I told her, looking fully into her eyes and weighing into her mind just how heavy this would eventually become. "If you do this, you can never take it back. There are no redo's and if you regret this action, you'll be miserable for the rest of your life."

"You're only saying that so I won't kill you," she hissed out.

"Maybe, but is that what you really think?"

Valerie looked at me, then closed her eyes, looking like she was about to cry. She pointed the gun at me for a long moment of silence, than she slowly brought her hand down, pointing the weapon at the ground. I then noticed that it was drizzling, not soaking us, but we would be pretty wet by the time we both had to go home.

I was about to say something about heading home to get warm, more to implant the idea into her head, but she was already walking back to her jet-sled. I wanted to shout after her, to say thank you, to say something, but my mouth didn't work at the moment. I just stared at her, making my face as blank as possible. She jumped back on her sled and looked back at me. Our eyes made contact again, but she pulled them away and shot off. I knew why she pulled away, I saw the tears in her eyes.

After my run-in with Valerie, I decided to do the rest of my patrol, but my back wouldn't allow me. I could smell the scorched skin, feel the blood pouring from my abrasions from my grapple with the ground, and my head was still spinning from said tumble down the hill. I felt miserable, I looked like I ran into a train, and I was cold and wet from the drizzle that turned into a downpour. All I wanted was to go home, fix myself up, and have some soup. Yeah, soup sounded really good right now.

I got to my feet and started to fly, but my head didn't like the altitude. I looked around me and saw that I was in the park, close to the entrance gate actually. I sighed in relief. My house was only three blocks from here. I bet I could walk the distance.

So I started to walk. Once out of the trees though, I had to change back into Fenton. People would wonder why Phantom was walking down the street with a limp then just take to the sky. No one would take a second look at poor little Danny Fenton walking down the street all by himself.

I got to my house with no one having spotted me. My back ached, my limbs were sore, my head was in turmoil from the throbbing that wouldn't go away, and I was cold. Forget fixing myself up, I just wanted soup and my bed. Maybe just my bed, I didn't think I had the strength to lift up the spoon.

I opened the door and walked in, only to see my angry mother tapping her foot and my father looking down on me with his disappointed look.

"Where have you been?" Mom asked me, her voice deathly calm, just short of shouting at me.

"Tucker's," I said, no effort to compose my face—I had become an expert liar over the years.

"We know you weren't at Tucker's," Mom said, eyes narrowing at me. "And we know you weren't at Sam's either."

"How do you know that?" I asked, letting my bag drop to the ground.

I winced in pain because of my back, but Mom didn't catch it, my dad did though. I saw his face become concerned when he saw my pain, but Mom had closed her eyes and taken a deep breath, so she hadn't see me at all in my discomfort.

"We've been keeping tabs on you Danny, for the past two weeks," she told me.

My heart leapt into my throat at that. Had they found out where I had really been going then?

"We know where you haven't been," Mom continued, "we still don't know where you go all of the time, but we know it has to stop."

"And we know Sam and Tucker have been lying for you," Dad said, his face back to serious, but he was watching me closely. "All we want in the truth Danny."

"We're tired of the lies and the excuses. We don't even know when you're telling the truth anymore," Mom sighed, looking ready to cry.

"We feel like we lost you son. You're a stranger in your own house now," Dad said when Mom couldn't continue. "We want to know what's wrong so we can fix it, to be a family again. You're not acting normally."

"I'm fine, you guys don't need to worry about me," I said, an automatic response to their pleas, but they wouldn't take that pacifier this time.

"No Danny, something is wrong with you," it was Mom who spoke now. "You're grades are bad, you look horrible, like you're torturing yourself. You sneak out at night and you get banged up so horribly that I wonder if you aren't doing it yourself."

That one took me for a loop.

"Whoa! You think I'm purposely beating myself up?" I asked her, almost disgusted by the idea. "I'm not some troubled teen Mom. You have nothing to worry about."

I tried to brush past her to get to the stairs and the safety of my room, but Mom grabbed the back of my shirt to stop me. As she grabbed the fabric, she brushed my back wound roughly with her fingers. The pain flared worse than before, making me see spots before my eyes. I must have screamed because both of my parents were looking at me as if I had grown two heads.

Mom, being gentle, but still firm, pushed my shirt up to see the problem and I could hear her sharp intake of breath through her mouth.

"Daniel Fenton, what have you been doing?" she asked me in horror.

I didn't realize it was that bad. I also didn't realized that my face had made it to the floor before either before my dad picked me up and put me, chest first, on the couch. Mom must have been rummaging in the closet for the first aid kit because I heard her muffled shouts and various objects falling from their places in her rush to help me. Dad pulled my shirt off and whistled at the damage when he saw it, but I don't think that was the only thing he was whistling at.

Over the years, I had collected a large amount of both scars and muscle. I wore long-sleeved shirts all of the time now because of both. My parents knew for a fact that I didn't work out, so they would wonder where I suddenly accumulated biceps and a six-pack—something my father would be jealous of by the way.

"Where is that first aid kit!" I heard my mother yell in frustration.

"Mads, check his room," Dad yelled to her. "Try under the bed."

I glanced up at my father, eyes wide that he knew exactly where it was. He looked back down at me with a knowing look. I don't think he knew the truth, but he knew about my late night escapades and that I had gotten hurt before.

"You came in late one night," he explained when Mom had gone upstairs. "Something had happened to you because you were out cold on your floor. I put you back into bed but I saw your hand was wrapped up, not well by the way. I wrapped it up better for you and put the first aid kit back under the bed, right where I found it."

I blinked at him, then closed my eyes and buried my face in the couch cushion. He patted my head and rubbed his fingers through my messy hair. It didn't comfort me much, but I knew he was there and that's all I wanted to know, all I needed right now.

Mom came back down the stairs with the kit and started to clean me up. She dabbed peroxide on my open wounds and my muscles tightened under the sting, but I didn't shout. She was careful stitching up one wound that was open to far, and she was amazed that I didn't cry, I could feel it coming from her fast hands. She washed the blood from my back and wrapped me up tightly before checking the rest of my body for any more scrapes. I told her I was fine, but of course she didn't listen to me.

"Danny, if this wasn't any worse, I would drive you to the hospital," Mom told me sternly. "This only justifies what we're going to do."

"And what are you going to do?" I asked her.

"Take you to a counselor."

I looked at her, than shook my head. They could take me to as many shrinks as they wanted, but I would never talk. I had plenty of practice ignoring those pompous know-it-alls, thanks to Spectra and Jazz; though if I had a choice between the two, I would have picked Jazz. At least she would have been some help.

* * *

Dr. Card was skinny, a stick really. He had a thin beard growing from what could have been his chin, and his large glasses looked ready to tip him over. Everything about the man was unimpressive. My parents were asked to sit in on the second session since Dr. Card thought I would talk then. I had been silent for our first session, knowing full well that I didn't have to talk if I didn't want to.

"He's stubborn, I'll give him that," Dr. Card turned to my parents after about half-an-hour of silence. "I had the pleasure of talking with some of your teachers Danny. They say that you're very bright, but lazy."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"They also say that you're a bit of a role-model for the other kids. People always seem to seek you out if they're having problems, and you can normally fix them."

I looked him in the eye, he was acting like a lion ready to pounce on the prey.

"How do you fix their problems Danny?"

"Not by illegal contraband if that's what you're thinking," I told him, my eyes narrowing. "Most of them come looking for advice, I give it to them, that's all."

Dr. Card nodded his head, but didn't look convinced.

"I also had a run in with Mr. Lancer. He tells me that you have excellent observation skills."

How did I know that stunt would come back to bite me in the butt one day?

"So, I just notice stuff," I shrugged my shoulders and looked away from him.

That probably wasn't a good move since now he would think that suspicious.

"Close your eyes Danny," Dr. Card told me, I did as he asked me. "Now, I want you to describe the shoes I have on."

"Dr. Card, don't you think that's a bit ludicrous?" I heard Mom ask.

"Now, now, let the boy answer my question."

"Sorry, but I can't tell you anything," I could of course, but I didn't want to give myself away any more.

"Well, I guess I was wrong then, he can't do it," Dr. Card said. "What a shame. For a minute there, I thought you were special."

I growled at him, he was trying to bait me, I knew it. Baiting was Spectra's tactic as well.

"You're parents must be disappointed in you," Dr. Card continued. "I heard that your sister was a really prodigy. Acing the CAT and the ACT within the same year. She's got a bright future ahead of her, but I can't really picture you anywhere."

"Stop it," I told him, still not opening my eyes.

"You have to talents to speak of, no extracurricular activities that I can see, other than your mysterious habit of beating yourself up. No wonder people see you as a looser in school, you don't do anything."

"Black, Armani, size 12. They cost almost five hundred a shoe. You're left shoe is more worn then your right shoe, suggesting that you have a limp, a barely visible one. The right toe is scuffed from when you bumped into the corner in the hall way, I saw the black scrape when I came in. One of your laces is frayed from the new kitten you have in your apartment, and you walk on the side of your feet, suggesting that you have a bad skin condition or a very bad wart on the side of your right heal." I opened up my eyes, meeting the completely silent gaze of Dr. Card and my parents, I couldn't help the sly smile that came on my face. "Is that enough, or should I go on?"

"No, no, that's quite enough," Dr. Card said, writing something distractedly on his paper.

My parents didn't say anything.

"Now, to move on to the real problem," Dr. Card said, looking at me again. "This compulsive lying has to stop."

"I am not a compulsive liar," I told him—I lied to protect my parents from the truth.

"I'm not so sure of that Danny, plus all of these beatings you give yourself-"

"I don't beat myself up!" I yelled at him, catapulting from my chair and staring him down. "There are other ways to get bruises you know!"

"Danny, settle down," my dad said, getting up and putting his big hand on my shoulder. "He didn't mean to insult you."

"Then when will he start _listening_ to me?" I asked Dad.

Dad blinked at my question, confused. The idea dawned on Mom first.

"You don't think anyone is going to listen to you?" Mom asked.

"Well, they will, but it will only go in one ear and out the other," I told her, keeping my eyes on Dr. Card. "You guys think you can solve problems with other people's heads. I got something to tell you, you can't. You can tell them what to do, but it is up to them to take that action. You can't do a thing about it. You're paid to give advice, advice that I don't need, and you're so set on what you think is wrong that you _know _what is wrong. You never listen, you just know how to fix. Isn't that what you're doing with me?"

Dr. Card looked down at his expensive shoes. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I can't help you," he said at last, shocking my parents.

"What?" Mom asked. "Of course you can help."

"No, the boy is right," Dr. Card shook his head. "I can't help you. He already knows what to do, he just needs to choose if he will do it or not."

I blinked at him, shocked that he had taken my side, but also shocked that he knew that I knew what should be done. I took a deep breath through my nose and let it back out the same way.

Yes, I knew what had to be done, but I also had to fix up some other things. Like why Sam was still mad at me. I didn't have time to check my calendar like Tucker said, so that was the first thing I wanted to resolve. Then I would contemplate on whether I should tell my parents the truth or not.

* * *

Stupid! I'm such an idiot for forgetting the most important day of the year! No wonder Sam wanted to drive a stake through my heart, and I would probably let her.

As soon as we got back home, I jumped up the stairs and looked at my calendar. It was stuck on July. Telling myself that I should really pay more attention to the days, I took out my phone and turned the calendar to the right date. I froze the instant I saw the date.

In big, bold colors, I had written down the one thing, the most absolute thing in the entire universe that I shouldn't forget.

Sam's birthday.

I can't believe I forgot my girlfriend's birthday! What kind of idiot am I? That's why she was so mad at me, why Tucker didn't give it away. I should have figured this out on my own, and I was two days too late. I was in a crap-ton of trouble.

I picked up the phone and quickly dialed Sam's number. It rang three times before she answered it.

"Sam I—"

I didn't get a chance to say anything else. She hung up on me. Oh I was going to get cursed for this. She was probably doing voodoo right now, one Phantom plushy in her hands and a home-made Fenton doll on the bed, just ready to be thrown into the fire, or stuck with needles, or something that I really shouldn't say because that would be cruel and unusual punishment for you who are reading.

Anyway you looked at it, I was dead.

My father came into the room when he heard an odd thumping sound coming from upstairs. It was me, banging my head on the wall in my stupidity.

"Danny, why are you banging your head on the wall? You'll make a dent."

I stopped to look up at him and he saw that something was wrong.

"I can't believe I forgot," I mumbled under my breath, banging my head one last time on the wall and just letting it rest there.

"Forgot what?" he asked coming to stand beside me.

I pointed to the calendar and he whistled when he caught on.

"I am so dead," I said. "She's never going to speak to me again."

"Danny, don't get so down on yourself. So you forgot a big day. I've been forgetting my anniversary for twenty years in a row and look at me!"

I only groaned into my wallpaper.

"Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say," Dad said, now thinking about what he had said. "Look Danny, just get Sam something a little extra special."

"She won't go for that, you know Sam."

"Yes, but I also know that she won't turn down something you put a lot of effort into making."

My eyes snapped open and my head came up instantly.

"Dad, you are a genius!" I yelled at him happily. "I've get to Tucker's."

"You're welcome!" Dad shouted as I ran down the stairs.

"Where are you going young man?" Mom caught me as I grabbed my jacket.

"I got to get to Tucker's before Sam utterly destroys me for forgetting her birthday," I said quickly as I ran out the door. "Love you, bye!"

I had an idea, and I was sure it would work, but I failed to notice that there hadn't been a ghost attack in a while. Ever heard of the calm before the storm? Well, I guess I never took the time to think about the calm being the time to get prepared for the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Truth and Lies—Part 2**

My fingers crawled over the thin, flat box with Sam's belated birthday gift in it. I saw her now, eating lunch under the large oak tree in the yard. It was probably the last nice day in October we would ever get, and I hoped it wouldn't be my last day.

"She's still mad isn't she?" I asked Tucker, who stood faithfully by my side.

"Oh yeah," he nodded.

"How long do you think I'll survive before I give her the gift?"

"Less than five."

"And with the present?"

"That can go two ways: either she'll love you forever, or the Box Ghost will be able to kick your butt repeatedly when she's done with you."

I gulped. Facing an angry girlfriend was never an easy thing to do. I would rather face Aragon again.

I took a deep breath and started to walk over to her. She glanced up at me when I stopped in front of her, but she still didn't speak to me.

"Hey, um, okay," I stumbled over my words—this really went better in my head, even if I was doomed to be killed. "Uh, I'm a jerk. You can call me whatever you want for the rest of my life—I deserve it."

"Yeah you do," she said bitterly.

"And, I'm here to make peace. I'm so sorry that I forgot. My calendar was still on July so I would have noticed if I had just flipped the stupid paper."

Sam smiled slightly at that. She knew I could mess things up and she obviously forgave me for not keeping track of the dates.

"And uh, this is a belated birthday gift," I handed her the box. "I hope you like it, I spent a long time on it last night."

Sam looked at me, curious, and took the box. She opened the top up and gasped at what was inside.

It was a pair of earrings and a necklace that I made, with Tucker's help. With my ice powers, if I concentrate hard enough, I can actually make diamond. Shaping the little bats for the earrings hadn't been easy since I wanted to put three on each and they had to be small enough to fit together and be light at the same time. The necklace had been easier. A small string of stars made up the chair and a howling wolf was at the bottom in the middle of it all. Everything was black of course, her favorite color besides lilac.

"You made these?" she asked in wonder, taking the earrings out and trying them on.

"Well, Tucker helped," I intoned. "Do you like them?"

"I love them," she smiled, a true smile now. "And I'll completely forgive you, if you help me put the necklace on."

I grinned and nodded. I was completely forgiven. I took the necklace out and Sam turned around, lifting her midnight hair up for me to click the snap in place. With her back turned to me, I turned back to Tucker and gave a thumbs up. He copied the motion and walked off, giving Sam and me some privacy.

"I'm sorry for being so cold earlier," Sam said, turning back to me.

"It's okay, you had every right to be," I told her, not upset at all, just relieved that I was forgiven and I wouldn't die today. "But I do need to tell you a few things."

I told her about the run in with Valerie, what had happened there, then the thing with my parents when they caught me walking in and made me go to a shrink. Sam listened, her eyes wide as I related everything that had happened in the last couple of days.

"She let you go?" Sam asked, still stuck on the thing with Valerie.

"I was surprised too, and I haven't seen Huntress around since then."

We were walking to our lockers, getting ready to go to class as we talked. The hallways were crowded with kids as they tried to do the same thing.

"That's weird, she never hesitated before. What do you think happened?'

"I think, that when it came right down to it, Valerie couldn't pull that trigger. She saw something when I made eye contact, but made no connection with my two sides. It was almost as if she had seen the human in me."

"That's impossible Danny. Valerie lets her want for your blood cloud her judgment on almost everything. She's a nasty little cretin that does everything for her own good. If she can't benefit from it, then she won't do it."

"As Huntress maybe, but not as Valerie herself. I think she's very lost right now."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard living a double life Sam. You have to wear two masks almost constantly and before you know it, you don't know who you are anymore. You're lost in your own mirage."

Sam looked up at me, some understanding in her eyes, but there was more concern there.

"You've grown very wise," she said.

"No, just experienced."

"Hey Fenton!"

Sam and I both stopped at the sound of my name. I turned around, but I didn't have to, to know that Dash was the one calling me. He came stomping up to us, glaring down at me with distaste, but I don't think he was here to smash my face in today.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "I need you to get this to Phantom."

"What?" Sam asked as I took the paper.

It was a letter, no address on it, just Phantom scribbled on the top.

"Why to Phantom? What makes you think I can find him?" I asked Dash, wary enough to think that this might be a trick.

Dash instantly sobered up. He looked tired, but happy at the same time. Years of worry and stress lining his eyes as he looked at me with an almost haunted expression.

"Phantom saved my sister's life," he whispered to me, no hate in it at all, just bewilderment.

"You're sister?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know the girl on the news they keep talking about? The medical miracle at Amity General?"

"Yeah," Sam spoke up. "I've heard about that."

"She's my sister. Kat Baxter."

I froze. Kat was Dash's sister?

"Phantom healed her," Dash continued seeing my expression. "My mom was there that night. Kat's free of that hospital now, she can do whatever she wants. She doesn't have to worry about being sick anymore."

I looked down at the letter, wondering how in the world the universe managed to make everything loop back to me in some form. It was odd to think I had helped Dash in some way, and I didn't even know I was helping him. Suddenly, the years of bullying and flunking grades made sense to me. Dash had been alright until the middle of eighth grade, that must have been when Kat was hospitalized. He and his sister were close, and I knew the feeling of having a sister that you wanted to protect with everything you had.

"I'll make sure it gets to him," I told Dash, pocketing the letter.

"You can Fenton, you can do anything," Dash told me, smiling. "Thanks."

"No problem Dash."

He walked away with a giant grin on his face, and for the first time, I saw him genuinely happy. I knew he wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Sam shoved an elbow into my ribs, reminding me that she was there.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" she asked, looking like she wanted the truth and nothing was going to stop her from getting it.

"I will, later when we're all together. I found out what my healing powers can really do."

She smiled at me and took my arm, dragging me to my locker to get ready for class.

* * *

To my great surprise, my parents let me go over to Sam's with Tucker so we could have our annual horror flick marathon for Friday night. They kept calling her mansion, making sure that I was still there. Her parents were keeping more of an eye on me than usual, but I tried my best to shrug it off, but it made getting close to Sam pretty difficult.

"Which one next?" Tucker asked, putting the latest movie into its case.

I looked at the clock, almost eleven.

"It's your turn Danny," Sam reminded me.

"Oh, yeah, um—"

The chill in the back of my throat stopped me from making a choice. I growled, letting the usual blue mist float from my nose like a bull snorting at the dust in his pen.

"Hero time," Tucker smiled, but he turned it down when he noticed Sam's mother hovering by the door.

"How can I get out of here with your mother watching my every move?" I asked Sam in a whisper, leaning in close to her on the couch.

"I got it covered," Sam winked at me. "Uh, Mom," she began, getting up from the couch and walking up to her. "I think I heard a noise upstairs."

"The new furniture!" Mrs. Manson practically screamed, running from the room and tromping up the stairs in her heals.

"She'll be at that for hours," Sam smirked. "You better get moving, Tuck and I are right behind you."

I nodded and flew out of the wall, changing into Phantom once outside in the darkness of the shadows and the slim light of the moon.

For me, ghost hunting is simple. My ghost sense can lead me straight to any spector that's terrorizing the town. I breathed out, wondering which way the mist would lead me. The wisp turned right, I looked in that direction and saw the faint signs of red ecto-blasts being thrown at innocent people in the park.

I ground my teeth together and jumped from the ground. I went underground once I saw the damage. Some of the buildings were scorched, but hole had not yet appeared in their exteriors. People were running towards me, meaning away from the threat. Cars, bikes, and anything else that was unfortunate enough to be in the way, were over turned and poking from the windows of nearby businesses.

Being underground was probably my best advantage. I didn't have to breathe under here, and I could feel the vibrations from above. Everything shook down here like the vibrations on a tuning fork, and I could now locate the source of the destruction. I followed the vibrations to the exact spot, using them like the lines on a dart board, and it was time to hit the bull's eye.

I shot out of the ground and nailed the ghost directly in the chest. I flew up over the ghost, still not getting a good look at it with my momentum and the chaotic moment going on, and hammered its head into the ground. I stood on top of it, the chest large and muscled, big enough to hold me entirely. My left hand shot downward and encased the neck, making it impossible to move. My right hand I brought back to my shoulder, green energy flaring and ready to strike.

"Skulker," I noted as the dazed hunter blinked up at me, "trying to get my attention?"

"And it worked perfectly," the metal man grinned at me, crooked teeth showing their malice.

My eyes narrowed at him, suspicious of my surroundings now. Skulker didn't lure me in without having a trap ready. As suspected, a trap was laid and now it was activated. A net from the tree above me sprang down and caught me before I could get away. I yelled as it pulled me back up and away from the ghost I needed to catch. I felt like a fish on a hook, just now being reeled in to the fisherman to be barbequed.

"You better let me go!" I yelled at him, struggling to get out of the net, but that proved to be an utter failure.

"And why would I do that?" Skulker asked, cutting the line from the tree limb and holding up his prize to his face. "I have you now."

I heard the sled before Skulker since I trained myself to listen for her sneak attacks, but I don't think Valerie was after my hide tonight. I watched, horrified and amazed at the same time, as she made a bee-line for Skulker's back. She was going at full speed, a blur of red and pink in the dark night sky and the foggy street lamps. She jumped off right before she could hit anything, but her board kept going and stabbed Skulker right in the gut. It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to blink.

Skulker, of course surprised by the jet-sled now impaling him, let me drop the ten feet to the ground. I grunted when I landed, but I wasn't hurt. I was use to falling from a hundred feet and still not breaking anything, but the street normally took some damage. Valerie ran over to me and began to untangle the net, trying to free me.

"What's with the change of heart?" I asked her, but she didn't answer.

Once I was free, she pushed me out of the way. I thought she was going to hit me or something, but I saw that she just saved my hide. The tree trunk that was behind us now had a big smoking hole through its center.

"Uh, thanks," I said, shrugging, but she jumped back as another blast hit the ground at my feet.

I had to get my head back in the game.

Jumping back into the air where I could gain the home-field advantage, I aimed at Skulker's jet pack and shot an ice blast at him. I hit my mark since Skulker was occupied with Valerie, the hunter having no idea that I was behind him. The ice short circuited his jets and sent him in a malfunctioning spiral into the ground. Valerie shot him in the head a few times before he landed on the ground, dazed, dented, and defeated.

Valerie sucked him up in her own thermos, only this one was red and not green like Mom and Dad's were. After Skulker was sucked up, she weighed it in her hand, as if contemplating something.

"You know, if its bothering you, I can always listen," I said, tying to be funny and lighten the mood.

Valerie looked at me in the eye again and I saw confusion and helplessness there. This wasn't a time to be funny.

"I'm serious about the listening thing," I said, much more serious.

"Here," she said quietly, giving me the thermos.

"Why are you giving it to me?" I asked, taking it off of her hands.

"You know what to do with it," Valerie said, looking at the ground. "I won't be needing it anymore."

She started to walk away from me, but I caught her arm so she couldn't go any further.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, holding the thermos up. "Are you saying you're quitting?"

"Yes," she yanked her arm out of my grip, but didn't walk away. "All of this time, I thought I was doing the world a favor if you were gone. When I finally had you, it was almost exactly how I had imagined it. I was going to look you in the eyes and take you out."

"But you didn't," I said, bewildered.

"I know," she sounded angry at herself, but she turned back around to face me. "Looking into your eyes was a mistake."

"How so? Couldn't stand what you saw?"

"No, I just saw something that I had never seen in your kind before. I saw life. Every ghost that I have hunted down, they don't have that. Their eyes are dead, unfeeling to everything in the world. You—you're different. You care, you feel."

"How kind of you to notice," my words were a little bitter since I wished she had figured this out a long time ago, it would have saved me a lot of grief.

Valerie flinched at my words, clearly knowing how much she had hurt me. I was surprised by this, knowing Valerie didn't let emotions get in her way very often. To show regret towards me, well, it was odd to see it under that cold visor.

"Is that why you're quitting?" I asked. "Just because you feel bad about what you did to me?"

"I hunted you down worse than an animal," Valerie said. "I know what you did for that little girl, the one in the hospital. I overheard Dash talking to Danny about it. Did you get the letter by the way?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I got it. It's very kind of them to thank me, but it's not necessary."

"You should be thanked, for everything you're doing here. So many years people have been on your case, still thinking you're evil."

"And you don't anymore?"

"I don't know _what _you are, but I know you aren't evil. Something that can feel like you can, can't be evil."

I blinked at her, amazed that she had come around like this. Who knew that all it took was a look? I was still wary around her, after all, she could be playing me, but something told me that her feelings were genuine. She regretted what she did and she wanted it to stop.

"When do you want your thermos back?" I asked her casually.

"Huh? I don't want it back," she shook her head.

"Yes you do," I argued. "I'm not going to let you give up on me that easily."

"Huh? What are you saying, you want me to hunt you down?"

"No, I want you to work with me, just like we did when we faced the Ghost King's army. We made a pretty good team you know."

Valerie smiled at the memory.

"Huh, so working with you instead of quitting. I like that idea," her smile grew as she thought about it, but then she frowned. "You would trust me like that?"

"Well, no, but I'm big on second chances. It will be a trial bases, and if I can trust you, you'll learn all of my secrets, everything. If you betray that trust, well, I'm not sure I could do what I would feel like doing."

Valerie nodded, understanding me completely.

"Do you need a lift home?" I asked her, remembering that her sled was now crushed to bits.

"Uh, no, there's something else I need to do."

"Alright, I'll see you around!"

I waved at her as I flew off, and she gave me the same courtesy. By the time I was out of the park, I saw two figures running over towards me, waving at me to land. It was Sam and Tucker, both panting heavily from running to help me.

"What did we miss?" Tucker gasped out, falling onto the ruined sidewalk.

I shook my head at him.

* * *

I flew Sam and Tucker back to the mansion so we could resume our goofing-off time. We had started thirty minutes into the next movie when the doorbell rang. Sam went up to get it since her mother was still upstairs doing whatever possessed the woman to check up on furniture, and her father was still in his study which was way in the back of the house.

"Hey Danny, I think it's for you," Sam called to me.

I got up, but before I left the room, I just had one thing to say.

"Keep your mitts off of my nachos Tuck."

"Yeah, yeah!" Tucker said, having heard it a million times before.

I walked out of the room, heading for the front door. It was Valerie, standing outside in the doorway.

"Valerie," I said in genuine surprise, so this is what she meant by taking care of something first.

"Hey Danny," she said, not meeting my eyes.

I looked to Sam and she just shrugged at me, not knowing what to do.

"Why don't you come on in?" I told Valerie. "It's too cold to stand out there tonight."

Valerie looked grateful as she stepped in, gaping at the interior as she did so.

"I didn't know you were loaded Manson," she told Sam.

"And I prefer to keep it that way," Sam warned her with a narrowed look and finger in the chest. "Come on, Tuck's in the theater room."

I motioned for Valerie to follow Sam and I walked behind Valerie in a quiet single-file line. When we got back to the theater room, I froze to see all of my nachos gone and Tucker with a small speck of cheese in the corner of his mouth.

"You're dead!" I yelled at him, pouncing like a cat on top of him.

He screamed like a girl as we rolled on the floor. He tried to get me off of him, but I was stronger and pinned him by his shoulders onto the floor. I don't know why I tackled him. Maybe part of me wanted to act a little normal in front of Valerie, but to be honest, I just wanted to goof around.

"Okay!" Tucker yelled, but a smile was planted on his face, knowing we were just teasing each other. "I promise to never touch your food again!"

"Promise me on your mother's grave," I made him swear.

"My mom isn't dead."

"Then, swear on your mother's meatloaf."

"Oh meatloaf! You were too young to die!" Tucker shouted to the heavens.

Ever since that incident with Amorpho, Tucker's mother had never made meatloaf again and Tucker missed it something terrible.

He swore and I let him back up, only to get swatted in the back of the head by Sam.

"You guys are so childish," she shook her head at us.

"But we're your childish guys!" Tucker said, batting his eyes at her in an attempt to look babyish.

"I know," Sam grumbled, and shoved her hand into Tucker's face, making the boy fall back onto his butt.

"Hey, Tucker, get up and get me some more nachos," I told him, settling down on the floor and gluing my eyes on the screen.

"Get them yourself," he pushed me.

"You owe me," I kicked him lightly in the side and he got up.

"Alright," he grumbled, making his way over to the snack machine.

Sam settled on the floor with me. I looked over to Valerie, craning my head on the floor in an attempt to look upside down. She looked lost, out of place here with us. It had always been a trio, but now a fourth person was here, throwing the normal balance off. We would just have to learn to readjust ourselves to fit her.

I was about to say something, but I found that Tucker already beat me to the punch—by handing Valerie my nachos. I let him, maybe Tucker could make her feel more welcomed then I could. Who knows, maybe they would start something.

I sighed and closed my eyes, just letting the whole atmosphere take me away. I was here, with friends, nothing could be better.

* * *

My feet were bleeding. I had been running for I don't know how long, but I never got any closer to the light at the end of this endless tunnel. I stumbled to my knees, crying out when the sharp rocks cut through my clothing and scraped my skin on my knees and palms as I caught myself in the fall. I chanced a look back and saw what was chasing me, it was getting closer. I had to run, I had to get to the light. I didn't know why, I just knew I had too.

Everything would end if I didn't get to that light.

I ran, but it never came closer. The faster I ran, the closer my foe got to me and further that light got from my grasp. I screamed when the claws caught my leg, making me do a nice face plant into the ground, my face scratched as if a whip came across my skin. I screamed louder when the claws dragged me backwards, making the light appear smaller and smaller as I was dragged further and further away.

My face was a bleeding river. By body tiered, my heart hurt from thumping so hard in my fear. I gasped, trying to breath, only to find that I couldn't. I tried to kick away from the hand that grasped my leg so tightly, but I couldn't move it. I tried screaming, but I had no voice to use. I was dragged, deeper and deeper into darkness and soon the light disappeared all together.

_**Everything ended.**_

* * *

I sat up, panting from my nightmare. My whole body was shaking, my clothes drenched in my own sweat. My limbs felt as tired as they had in the dream. My feet ached from the remembered fabrication that had felt so real.

I looked around, trying to find familiarity in this dark place to calm myself. I saw Sam sleeping next to me. I must not have woken her up when I did. Tucker and Valerie were behind me on the couch, sleeping side by side. The T.V. was on a blank blue, bathing the whole room in an odd light, making the shadows sharper and more menacing then before.

"Just a dream," I whispered to myself, rubbing my eyes. "Only a dream."

I didn't know how wrong I was.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Yeah! New part--and it is going to be way longer then i want it to be!_**

* * *

**Truth and Lies—Part 3**

Gregory—the one name in the whole world that I don't want mentioned within fifty feet of my being.

He was Jazz's boyfriend for the two years she had been at college. He had never come to the house before—naturally since Jazz didn't want to mortify him with the sight of our very abnormal family. Jazz had emailed us about him, sent us pictures and everything like that, but I still didn't like him. I know I never met the guy in person before—I had never spoken to him before—but there was just this instinct in me to hate him.

I think part of it was being a little, overprotective, brother—and the other half was being a ghost. Ghosts hated change—that was partly why some of their souls stayed here on earth, they just couldn't move on. The Lunch Lady is a good example of ghosts being stuck in their own minds of the very moment they died. I wasn't like that, at least, I don't think I am. I think it was more like I was feeling threatened that Gregory was taking what was mine. Some ghosts hating people messing with their stuff. From something as small as straightening a picture frame to knocking the house that they haunted down to the ground for a mini-mall. My little-brother-instincts warned me to protect Jazz. After all, if this guy turned out to be a jerk, I would be the one responsible for kicking his butt back to where he came from.

No one screwed my sister and got away with it.

It was the day before Thanksgiving when I saw Jazz's car drive up into the garage—or at least by the garage. Dad still had his junk stacked up in there; it had gotten so bad that some of the deranged parts were sticking out of the cracks and windows like ear-hair on an old guy. I smiled happily—it had been months since I physically saw Jazz after all—and hurriedly stashed the vacuum I had been holding back into the closet.

"Living room's clean!" I shouted down the steps to the lab. "And Jazz is here!"

I should have held my tongue. My dad took Jazz's moving away the most—he and she were close—like Mom and I had been—and he cried for almost a week before he realized that Jazz would be coming back for visits when she could. Dad was emotional like that, and it was just embarrassing. He did love us, just a little too exuberantly.

Dad came running up the stairs—for a big man he's light on his feet—and I had to jump out of the way or risk getting run over.

"Dad, don't just—" I didn't finish—the bang from the front door being smashed from its hinges (again) told me I wouldn't need to bother.

I groaned, my head falling to my chest and my shoulders slumping. Something else I would have to fix, but later. My bad mood was washed away when I heard Jazz scream in fright on the front lawn. Dad must have hugged her by surprise.

"Well, let's get out there," Mom said, making me jump.

In the rush, I didn't hear her come up the creaky metal steps. I followed her outside, watching in amusement as Dad was swinging Jazz around like a doll and a guy—who I guessed to be Gregory—watched on the curb of the street, looking terrified. It looked like he was ready to call 911.

Yep, welcome to the Fentons!

"Jack Fenton, you put our daughter down right now!" Mom scolded Dad, running out there to stop the love from spreading in a threatening manner.

I watched Gregory's expression as he heard what my mother said. His eyes got wider, if that was possible, and the phone dropped from his hand. I turned my eyes back to my parents and sister. Jazz had been put back on her own two feet and was waving at me. I smiled and waved back, deciding that I had hung in the background long enough.

"Good to have you back sis," I hugged her tightly, but not like Dad had done.

"Good to see you little brother," Jazz squeezed me hard, she must have really missed me. "When did you get taller than me?"

I shrugged after we pulled apart. To be honest, I hardly noticed those kinds of things—they weren't overly important to me.

"Who's the green bean?" I asked her, pointing at Gregory's skinny frame.

"Danny, don't be mean," Jazz scolded me, sounding too much like Mom.

She motioned for Gregory to join us, and the guy came shuffling up to us uncertainly. He was as tall as me, and that meant he was tall. I was nearing six-foot five now, and not knowing when it would end. He had a decent face, the kind you would find in the picture frames you grab off of the shelf in almost any store. His hair was a tawny brown, eyes almost the same color. All in all, he looked very ordinary. Leave it to Jazz to pick somebody who resembled Ken of the _Ken and Barbie _match set.

"Jazz, what's going on?" he asked—even his voice sounded ordinary.

"Just my family's way of welcome," Jazz smiled, but it was pained. "Uh, this is my brother, Danny."

Gregory looked at me and backed up a step. What, did I look like a skunk or something? I was beginning to think this guy wouldn't make it past passing the plates around tomorrow.

"This is your brother?" he asked Jazz, pointing at me. "He doesn't look like it. Not with those pictures you showed me."

"Old pictures," Jazz corrected him. "I didn't have any recent ones."

Gregory nodded his head and looked at me again.

"I never would have guessed," he murmured to himself, but I could hear it just fine.

I frowned at him, my look darkening considerably. Oh yeah, I wasn't going to get along with this guy.

* * *

Gregory—but he wanted to be called Greg—took in the house as he stepped inside. He seemed surprised that it looked normal enough. Meanwhile, I was carrying his two suitcases and Jazz's four. Why a girl needs to pack so much stuff is beyond me. I had three bags in one hand and three in the other, Jazz's carry-on bag slung over my head and resting across my chest. I wasn't difficult for me to carry them all, but it was annoying and heartless for everyone to ignore me. Actually, on second thought, maybe it was a good idea that they ignored me—a normal human couldn't possible carry all of this in one trip.

I dropped the bags by the door, the loud clunk making everybody turn to me. I ignored them and took the bag off of my chest and shut the door behind me at the same time.

"Danny, take Greg's stuff to the guest room please," Mom asked/told me. "Greg, why don't you follow Danny so you know where the room is?"

Greg nodded, I tried to look bored. I grabbed the two black cases that were Greg's and climbed up the stairs. I could feel he was hesitant to follow me, as if he was expecting a secret trap to open up under his feet or a chainsaw would pop out of the wall to cut his head off.

"This isn't a horror house," I told him flatly.

I heard him pause on the steps, shocked that I had finally spoken to him no doubt, but I kept walking. After a moment, he followed me again. The guest room was right next to mine and adjacent to the bathroom door. I opened the door to the guest room and walked in, letting his suitcases fall from my hands and onto the ground without any care.

Greg looked at the room, a curious gleam in his eye.

"I was expecting worse, from how vague Jazz had been," he said walking over to the window. "She talks a lot about you."

"Does she now?" I asked, interested in what he had to say—and I really wanted to know what Jazz had been saying about me.

"Yeah, how you can do almost anything if you put your mind to it. How smart you are, how responsible you are. You're a hard guy to live up to in her eyes."

I smiled, flattered that he thought I was worth measuring up too. I never thought much about myself, most of my actions went to helping other people—human or ghost. I just liked doing it—it felt like that was my whole reason for existing. I had the power to help people and it didn't feel right to just let my power go to waste for my own gain. A certain, lonely, fruit-loop could prove that idea in a heartbeat.

"She talks too much," I mumbled, barely audible to our guest.

"She says you don't like to be praised often, why is that?"

Oh great—he was a personal question guy.

"I just don't like the attention," I said after having to think about it for a moment. "I'll be downstairs."

I left him to unpack, my full intention to go downstairs like I said I was going to do, but I heard noise coming from Jazz's room. I changed my course, my mind and heart wanting to talk to her alone then be by myself just then. It had been a long time since I talked to Jazz face-to-face, and I missed our midnight chats that we use to have. Talking out my problems with her really helped me with my ghost fighting and my personal life at school. She helped me pull my grades up, helped me get better at ghost hunting—all at her own expense. Jazz didn't realize it, but she was also very selfless in her own way. Maybe it was just a family thing.

"Jazz," I knocked on her door, my voice tired.

I didn't have to put on a show anymore since it was just me and her. She probably saw right through my show the minutes she laid eyes on me in the yard, but I couldn't be sure.

I had been tuckered out lately because of finals coming up at school and the late night ghost hunting was starting to pick up again. With Valerie on the team, she really picked up the slack for me, but she also had finals to study for and couldn't do much. Since she thought I was still a ghost and didn't have school, she had to leave me along most of the time. She promised to help out during the Christmas rush, but I would probably be spending that time catching up on my sleep—if I survived the next couple of weeks.

Jazz heard me and her face told me she knew I was haggard.

"Come on Danny," she patted the spot on the bed next to her where she sat on the comforter.

I took it gladly; sitting down then laying spread eagle with my legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Jazz copied me, both of us staring up at the ceiling.

"Mom and Dad told me about the night they caught you," she said casually. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't expect them to catch me," I droned out. "Valerie hit me by surprise and my back paid for it. Don't worry, I'm fine now."

"I know that. Danny, they're really worried about you—don't you think it's time to tell them?"

"What? With your hubby in the house?"

"He's not my hubby, and think about it Danny. It's been three years, they deserve to know the truth."

I sighed heavily, a puff of blue fog coming from my mouth. There wasn't a ghost around—that cold stung—this one was just from my ice powers. Sometimes if I got all tight in the muscles from stress or whatever, my ice powers would activate in some form, making me feel worse. The release of the mist was a release of tension, it also lowered the temperature in Jazz's room by a lot.

"Sorry," I told her.

"Its fine Danny, I got use to this long ago," she didn't sound cold, in fact, it sounded like she missed it.

"Mom and Dad still think that something is wrong with the thermostat," I grinned, chuckling.

Jazz laughed with me; it was kind of funny to see that two ghost hunters couldn't find a ghost that obviously lived under their own roof.

"Do you think Greg is going to last the week?" Jazz asked me suddenly.

"I'll give him until tomorrow morning," I said, getting up from the bed.

"Why the morning?' Jazz asked, sitting up.

"Mom starts cooking in the morning," I grinned evilly at her.

She threw a pillow at my head, but I just turned intangible and left the room smirking. I knew I was going to pay for it later, but Jazz was Jazz and I couldn't help messing with her a bit. She was still my sister after all.

* * *

5:00 AM on Thanksgiving day—Mom gets up to prepare the food.

5:30 AM—Dad gets up after smelling the bacon frying downstairs for breakfast.

6:30 AM—Jazz gets up.

7:00 AM—Jazz pulls the covers off of me and forces me out of bed.

7:05AM—I'm back in bed with Jazz pounding on my door after I phased her out of my room.

7:10AM—Jazz is still pounding, unaware that I put earplugs in my sensitive eardrums.

7:11AM—Jazz gives up.

7:12AM—Dad knocks down my door and flips my mattress over.

7:13AM—I'm awake.

7:20AM—I get in the shower.

7:30AM—I almost blast Gregory for walking into the bathroom without knocking first.

8:00AM—We're all eating breakfast.

8:10AM—Gregory grabs a shower while Mom assigns jobs to keep the house clean before relatives arrive.

8:30AM—Interesting growling sounds come from the oven.

11:00AM—Grandpa Fenton comes in, nearly taking my head off with his new blaster.

11:01AM—Couch has a new hole from said blaster.

12:00PM—Grandma and Pappy drive up and enter our abode.

12:01PM—Grandma makes a beeline for the kitchen to help Mom with the food.

12:30PM—Jazz goes into the kitchen to help.

12:31PM—Jazz is pushed out of the kitchen.

12:40PM—Inlaws bicker about whatever is on the news, Dad is snoring in the recliner, Jazz and I are doing nothing, and Gregory is pacing the floor.

3:00PM—Food is finally done and everyone sits at the table.

3:01PM—Turkey comes alive.

3:04PM—Turkey is dead again.

3:06PM—Turkey stirs.

3:07PM—Dad and Grandpa Fenton chase once-alive-now-undead-twice turkey through the house.

3:10PM—Need a new sofa.

3:11PM—Need a new upstairs fan.

3:12PM—Need a new desk.

3:30PM—Turkey is caught and thrown into the Ghost Zone.

5:00PM—After throwing the rest of the meal into the Ghost Zone, people start to leave.

5:30PM—Box Ghost shows up.

5:31PM—Box Ghost sucked up into thermos.

5:40PM—Cleaning begins.

5:56PM—Turkey is back.

7:00PM—I finally get the turkey sucked up into the thermos.

7:01PM—Gregory faints.

7:30PM—Watch a documentary about algae until it's time for bed.

10:00PM—I'm in bed.

10:01PM—I'm out hunting ghosts for the rest of the night.

* * *

Greg wasn't around the next morning. He left a note saying that he had a family emergency in the middle of the night, but I knew better. I saw his scrawny hide pacing at the bus stop at the north end of town, both suitcases at his side and a one-way ticket to Mexico once he got to the airport. Well, I followed the bus and kind of stole his luggage before it could go through customs. It all currently rests at the bottom of the bay.

I told Jazz what I saw the next morning. She wasn't heartbroken, but I could tell that the action still hurt. I was glad that she hadn't gotten attached to him, but she had been dating him for two years. You don't date somebody and not leave a mark on them—or yourself. She didn't shed any tears for him, she didn't speak about him for the rest of the time she stayed at home, but I could tell it was eating her up inside.

"Jazz," I came into her room, not bothering to knock because I wasn't going to be turned away, "we need to talk."

It was the night before she was going to leave, so her room was all bare and packed up for the trip back to her dorm. She was wearing her pajamas, slippers, and some sort of facial cream that made her look like a zombie. She knew I didn't care about that though, I had grown up around weirder stuff then facial cream.

"What do you need to talk about?" she asked me, instantly thinking that it was me that had a problem.

"About you," I said, sitting down on her desk. "Jazz, you can't pretend that jerk didn't ever exist."

Jazz was quiet for a moment before she sat on her bed and took a deep breath.

"I'm not worried about it Danny," she told me in a very professional-like manner.

"But I'm worried about you. How many times did you make me spill my guts out? I think it's your turn."

Jazz looked up at me, her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"I knew it wasn't going anywhere with Greg," she said, voice thick with emotion. "He could have at least said it to my face."

"I know, he should have."

"Why can't more guys be like you?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, shocked.

"You're the best guy in the world Danny. You're so good to Sam and anyone else you bump into. It doesn't matter who they are, you just get along with them. Every girl wants a guy that will accept her for who she is. I'm tired of trying to be something I'm not just to grab a guy."

I jumped off of the desk and sat down beside her on the bed.

"Jazz, you're going to find a guy who likes you—and accepts your family. You shouldn't be trying to do anything just for one guy."

"Thanks Danny, I needed that," she smiled at me, still wiping the tears from her eye without messing up her mask.

I hugged her and she hugged me back, she really did need this.

"So how do you feel?" I asked her.

"Better, but now I know what it's like to be forced to talk," she said, smiling at the irony.

"But I didn't even try very hard."

"I owed you something, and you were right. You're almost always right."

"I'm going to miss you Jazz."

"I know, but it's just one more month and then I'm back until next semester. Can you wait?"

"No."

"Well, you'll have to. Good night Danny."

"Night Jazz."

I left her room, hearing the voices of my parents downstairs as they worked on their latest invention. I wasn't sure what it did, but I knew I probably wouldn't like it. It consisted of part of the microwave, bathroom sink, and the outside street lamp, among other various items found in the garage.

"Danny!" Dad shouted up the stairs. "Get down here son. Your mother and I want to show you something."

I took a deep breath and slowly walked down the stairs, my hands bundled into fists at my sides. I turned the landing and saw Dad holding some sort of gun in his massive hands. The gun itself was small, looking like a pistol almost. The Fenton insignia was stapled on the side and the green lines on the barrel told me it wasn't an ordinary gun—but everything my parents made wasn't ordinary.

"What is it?" I asked warily.

"It's the Fenton Ghost Grappler!" Dad proclaimed loudly, pumping his fist into the air. "This baby can lock onto any ecto signature and grab the ghost with the grappling hook inside, and bingo! The spooks are ready for dissection!"

I gulped, getting paler as he continued on in his babbling. I would have to sabotage that monstrosity the first chance I got.

"The next ghost attack and we'll do some field tests," Mom spoke up charmingly. "That Ghost Boy won't know what happened."

"Oh I have a feeling he would have some idea," I said, turning back to go up the stairs.

"Oh, sweety, can you take this box up to the attic?" Mom called after me, holding out a box for me to take. "We found more junk in the lab and we can't make it fit in the garage."

"Alright," I grumbled, taking the box from her and climbing back up the stairs.

* * *

Once at the top, I grabbed the cord that pulled down the trap door to the attic. Looking around to make sure I wasn't being watched, I hovered up to the attic floor instead of having to climb the steps with the box in my hands.

The attic was used to stash memories. There were a lot of family heirlooms up here, dating back to when the first Fentons came to Amity Park. No one had been up here in ages, the dust was thick on each piece of junk that was put away in the corner, cobwebs hung in the rafters like party decorations, and the air was so thick a fly could have felt like it was swimming.

I clicked on the light and started to look around for a bare spot to drop my load. I saw a place on top of an old roll-top desk on the far wall. I stepped over odd and unidentifiable items to get to my destination, but I miscalculated a step and accidently made a box flip over my own foot.

"Crap," I muttered, dropping the box I had in my hands and bending down to fix the mess.

I turned the box right-side up and started to collect the papers that had spilled all over the floor. I was almost done picking it all up—it had been a small box with almost nothing inside it—when I picked up a rather thick folder. I turned it over in my hands, trying to find out what was inside it without having to open it. There was no writing, so I flipped it open and pulled the papers out.

My hands froze on the spot, reading what was on the page.

"No way," I gasped.

"Danny!" Mom yelled up the stairs. "Did you put that box up yet?"

"Uh, yeah!" I yelled, sliding the papers back in place and putting the flap back down.

"Well come back down. It's not good for you to stay up in that dust!"

I got up, but looked back at the folder I had left on the floor. I was torn between sneaking it into my room and pretending that I never found it. When Mom had called up to me, my heart had jumped in my chest so hard I thought it was on the outside of my body. I was so sure I had been caught, but I was confused as to if it was a bad thing I had found those papers or not.

I sighed, shutting my eyes and thinking. Those papers had everything to do with me. I was almost eighteen so I had a right to them. Suddenly, my parents didn't seem like a big deal. I was angry at them for hiding this from me for some many years.

I snapped up the papers and hid them in the fold of my jacket.

I had always wondered how I was able to hide my secret so well—I guess it was in the genes.

* * *

Sam, Tuck, Valerie, and I all walked away from the school with heavy sighs but happy smiles that the day was finally over. It was only Wednesday so we would have to go back again, but it was also the middle of the week, meaning it was halfway over and so close to the weekend that we could almost taste it.

"So, do you guys want to head over to the Nasty Burger first before doing homework?" Valerie asked.

"Uh Val, first thing about us—we never turn down an invite to the Nasty Burger so long as whoever spoke up first buys," Tucker said, goofy grin on his face since he thought he was being funny.

"Alright, it's all on me," Valerie said, chuckling at Tucker's antics.

Valerie had actually become a part of the group fairly quickly. Sam wasn't so cold to her anymore but she was still wary. Tucker took to her instantly, and I think he was working up the courage to ask her out—again—and I don't think it would be a total failure this time. To me, Valerie was just a friend—and a very good ghost hunting partner. I was ready to tell her everything, but I was having a hard time trying to figure out how to do that and not get my brains busted in at the same time.

Valerie was bound to have some angry feelings towards me once I told her after all. However, this thing with my parents and the papers I found in the attic also had me thinking. I hadn't looked at the folder since I hid it in my room, but I knew I would have to face it soon. I hadn't told anybody what I had found, I figured that since that I didn't even know what I had found, nobody else would have to bother with it.

We walked into the parking lot of the Nasty Burger and froze when we saw the large van being sported in the front of the building. It was a hippy-looking van—white with various Celtic scribbles all over it. On the side of the driver door was an advertisement—**Madame Celsius: The Contact Between the Barrier.**

"Must be some kind of side show," Sam guessed, but she sounded uncertain.

"I hope she isn't one of those dopy fortune tellers. You can always tell that they're fake," Valerie said, doubt thick in her voice.

"Well, only one way to find out," I said, and I started to make my way over to the vehicle.

After a few uncertain moments, the others followed me. I knocked on the door of the van and the door flew open, almost hitting me in the face. A woman jumped out of the van. Small, dumpy, and wrinkled, she wobbled over to us and looked each one in the eye. Her wrinkles were so severe that they hid her tiny eyes, making her look oriental.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice aged and cracking.

"Uh, we were just curious as to what you were doing here," I said, feeling uncomfortable and that this had been a bad idea from the beginning.

The woman turned to look at me, pushing her face up into mine. Without a word, she grabbed my shirt and pulled me into her van. I could hear my friends calling my name, but she must have shut the door before they could enter in with us.

I heard the faint click of the doors being locked as I looked around the interior. It was normal, bare, white, and tin.

"Are you kidnapping me?" I asked her, the words holding a fair amount of sarcasm.

"You're a hard one to track Phantom," she pointed her scrawny, bumpy old finger into my face. "And don't talk back to me. Some hunters may tolerate your wit, but I don't."

"You're a hunter?" I asked her suddenly, so shocked and bewildered that I forgot to deny that I was a ghost.

"An old fashioned one sonny. I only take on those spirits who have a mind of taking over the world and upsetting the balance between here and the realm of the dead."

I blinked at her—to be honest, it was all I could do. Imagine, this crotchety old woman, a ghost hunter?!

"I've been looking for you for some time," she said, bending over me.

"Uh, may I ask why?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

"Because, you need to know things young man," she told me, turning around abruptly and smacking me in the face when the folds of her skirt turned with her. "I don't hunt with those giant guns your parents hunt with. I'm of the old school, magic is the way to trapping a ghost."

"Magic?" but my question went unheard as she continued.

"But I'm not a strong as I use to be, feel like becoming a ghost myself soon enough. That's only a figure of speech by the way. I've been on this earth long enough to never want to be tied to it. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the book!"

She abruptly turned back around, plopping a thick, leather-bound book in my lap. I opened up the cover after she stared at me, as if something was suppose to happen. The pages were thick parchment—the book must have been hundreds of years old, and in a language that I couldn't read.

"If you're looking for an interpreter, I'm not your guy," I said closing the book up and flinging it back at her feet.

"Wrong again young hybrid," she admonished me. "I am to read it to you."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hello again! This next instalment is kind of short, but it explains alot and I think people are going to like it--or hate it. Depends on what you think of the ending.**_

* * *

**Truth and Lies—Part 4**

I thought over what the old woman in the parking lot said that night, unable to sleep. All four of us had gotten called into her wonder wagon and each came out with a look on their face that said the universe was punishing them. What was so horrible for me, was that she was right. I couldn't deny anything that she had said to me, what she told me, about myself; and the thing was, none of the things she listed were horrible.

"Every five hundred years," she had began, not bothering to open the book since she must have it memorized by heart, "there is a source of energy so powerful and unchecked that it can do anything. With this power, a person has a chance to play God."

"So, what does that have to do with me?" I had asked.

"There are two parts to this energy—the Source and the Protector. The Protector is the only one that can get close to the Source without getting hurt or power-hungry, the only one in the world that can keep it in check and keep the balance between the Ghost Zone and Earth. It is the Protector's job to do just that—protect and guard the Source."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"Then listen—the Source is an endless pit of ecto-energy and both humans and ghosts can control. It is pure, untouched, and endless in potential. With more powerful ghosts, the whole element of nature can change."

"Yeah," I said, remembering past battles. "Yeah it can, like Ghost Writer did with his key-board to make everyone rhyme. Or Vortex with his crazy weather-controlling powers."

"Precisely," she nodded, "but, the Source can take it to a whole new level. It can create new species of animal and plant, foods unimagined, colors that never existed. To a person with an endless imagination, they can do anything with it."

"Including destroy?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"But, what does that have to do with _me_?!"

"You're the Protector, young hybrid. The universe has charged you with a great task, and given you the means to do it."

I paused, the words melting in my head, but making no sense.

"How do you know it's me?"

"Because, you would sacrifice your life for those you love. You have been made to give your life away, to give up your life for others. From the very beginning, you were the Protector, even before you gained your powers. You proved this, by protecting your brother—"

I held up my hand for her to stop. I couldn't face that fact of my life, not yet. I still felt betrayed by my parents for that act, of giving my brother—my twin no less—up for adoption. I still don't know why they did it, I wanted to believe it was because they had a good reason, but I didn't see any reason that would justify taking a child from their family.

"Okay, let's say you're right . . . where is the Source? In a spring in the Nevada Desert?"

"Wrong, the Source is a person, one you are close to. The Source and the Protector are always close together, so that they might find each other before the pompous jerks can undo what is meant to be."

"Okay, so I find the Source, then what? Body Guard them for their entire life?"

"Wrong again. The Source and the Protector are only born every five hundred years because every five centuries, it is needed. The pure energy is needed to keep the Ghost Zone and the Earth in perfect balance. It keeps our worlds together, keeping each from falling into nothingness."

"So, I need to get the Source to a destination?"

"Correct."

"But where?"

"I don't know; the location changes each time. All I know is, you will find it. They always find it."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I never kid. Now, get out of here and send in your girlfriend: that creepy girl in black."

I found myself getting up and stepping towards the door. I put my hand on the handle then turned back around to face her.

"Can you tell me how to identify the Source? I mean, there are a lot of people that I'm close to."

"The person won't be able to defend themselves properly. The Source can never defend itself, that is why it needs the Protector."

* * *

I nodded and left, her words haunting my every thought up till now. I glanced up at my clock and saw that it was twenty minutes until midnight. I bet the others were tossing and turning or laying awake same as me. We all had a pretty rough shock that afternoon.

Sam had come out of the Van looking very confused and lost, holding that same book the woman had plopped into my lap. She didn't look at me, didn't look at anything really. She backed away from my touch as she told Tucker he was supposed to go in.

Tucker took a deep breath before he went, and he came out looking pretty much the same, but you could tell something heavy was on his mind. Tucker always had a blank face when he was thinking about something deep and meaningful, like the purpose of life and all that crap. He told Valerie to go in next, and I wondered what would happen since she wouldn't know a thing about what was going on. I know the others did because of my half-ghost status and the fact that they felt the same as me—conviction of some destiny that we knew existed but wished had never come upon us all.

Valerie came out, looking distraught and betrayed. She headed straight for me and looked me in the eye. I heard her mutter something then she slapped me, gave me a good black eye for about three hours before I finally healed. She had stomped off after that, not looking any of us in the face, probably not having the guts to do so, or she was so angry that us that she just didn't want to.

I knew she knew the truth, there was no doubting that. At least I didn't have to worry about telling her—explaining everything, though, would be a different story. I wished I knew what everyone had been told, but I didn't want to tell them what I was told—not until I got a better grip on it anyway.

So, I was the Protector? Some guy who was suppose to guard the Source from evil hands and get it somewhere—still unknown by the way—and I still didn't know what would happen after that or if there was a deadline. I just knew it had to be done. What the woman said about balance between here and the Ghost Zone was true. The Ghost Zone was the flipside of our world, they were connected. If the Zone went, then the Earth went with it.

The only thing I would complain about would be the name. What kind of unimaginative person would name me the Protector? Oh well, I guess it really didn't matter—it fit description wise and who was I to question the universe?

At the thought of all things powerful, I decided I would have to see Clockwork about this. I trusted his opinion better than anybody else's when it came to things like this.

The Ghost Zone seemed to be too quiet. Normally, the whole place would be filled with howls of the miserably dead or someone would be shouting an insult at me and chasing me to all ends of this seemingly unending realm. No one was in sight today, which only made me wary that an attack was being planned on me, or something was horribly wrong.

Clockwork's lair was far out, almost too long of a trip for me to take. He was an older ghosts—probably one of the first ones—and preferred his privacy, but for some reason, he didn't mind me dropping in every now and then. I think he liked my company. Yeah I did ask questions, but I never demanded anything out of him like some ghosts did. I asked for advice every now and then, but that was it. I had already learned my lesson about messing with the time stream and I wasn't about to repeat it.

"Danny," Clockwork said to me, completely unsurprised that I had come to visit, but he asked anyway like a good host, "what brings you to this side of the Zone?"

"I need to ask you something—actually, a couple of things," I said, and he nodded—the questions were expected. "I ran into someone earlier today and I was wondering if it was true, what she said?"

"Yes, every word from her mouth was truth," Clockwork confirmed my suspicions, and I suddenly wished he had just denied them.

"You knew, didn't you?" I asked him, but I wasn't mad if he did; I had long since learned that Clockwork had his reasons for keeping silent.

"Yes, that was why I didn't kill you three years ago like the Observants told me to. You needed to be in the time stream, you needed to fulfill your job, just like we all do."

"So, my evil-self, did he ever know about the Source?"

"How do you think he became so powerful?" Clockwork asked me. "He would have been captured eventually, but when he found out about the Source, he knew he could become unstoppable. He sucked the Source dry and became both Protector and Source, a combination which should never happen—understand?"

"Fully," I nodded, "so, is there like a deadline to this whole thing?"

"You'll know it when you see it, but it is a ways off yet. You have time to gather your friends and locate the Source before you have to find the location."

"I don't suppose you could supply the answers to any of those questions?"

Clockwork smiled, but shook his head no. I was on my own with those.

"What are your other questions?"

"Why is the whole Zone suddenly vacant? It's like everybody just up and disappeared, and I haven't had much trouble at home either. What's going on?"

Clockwork's face became dark and I knew at once that the answer was not good.

"The humans are getting bolder," he said, his voice rough with anger. "I'm afraid that I can't tell you what's going on—but you will know soon enough, and you must put a stop to it Danny—you must."

Great, two problems I had to worry about.

"Clockwork, are you the only one left here?"

"No, others are hiding, but I soon fear that I will fall as well."

"What do you—"

My question was cut off—a large explosion behind me blowing me off my feet and sending me sprawling to the ground. I shook the chunks of Clockwork's walls off of me and got back to my feet as fast as I could. I turned around, ready to fight, but I couldn't believe what I saw.

A giant white ship—vaguely looking like the Spector Speeder on a larger scale—came blasting its way into Clockwork's home. The ecto-cannons blasting in every direction, shooting off the clocks on the wall and destroying everything in its path like a bulldozer. The whole place was shaking, unstable on its hinges as the structure began to fall apart and collapse. Of course the chunks of wall were sliding right through the ship as if it wasn't there: the attackers were human.

"Danny, get out of here," Clockwork yelled at me over the deafening noise.

I turned to him and saw that he was holding up a shield for us so we would be smashed by the many falling pieces of ceiling and clocks.

"Can't you stop them?" I yelled at him, pointing at the ship.

"I'm afraid not, they're destroying my whole lair, it's what gives me my strength. I'm powerless right now. Get out of here, I can't afford for you to get captured."

"I'm not leaving you behind!"

With one hand, Clockwork kept the shield up and with the other, he grabbed me and threw me to the side, close to his dais where a portal was waiting for me to jump in and return home. I was not going to leave with my tail tucked between my legs! I was going to protect my friend.

I slowly got to my knees, Clockwork's shield having failed and the debris was now hitting my unprotected body. I created a shield of my own and hefted it over my head. Dust and dirt was now being kicked up like a stampede of horses were running through the tower, it was thick like fog and I couldn't see a thing.

"Clockwork!" I yelled into the desolation.

I heard him yell, but it wasn't for me. The white ship rose from the dirt like a submarine from the depths of the ocean, a captured Clockwork underneath it in a super-strength ghost shield, even one I couldn't get through with my human DNA.

"Clockwork!" I yelled for him.

I don't think he could hear me. The white ship turned around and sped back off into the Ghost Zone, having claimed its prize and was now heading back home. I watched it go off at warp speed, too fast for me to follow now. It was out of my sight within seconds.

The shaking of the ground got my attention back to where I was. Hating myself for letting them grab Clockwork and getting away, I had to force myself to turn around and jump through the portal before the whole thing collapsed on me and I was left buried in the Zone without anyone knowing where I was and no chance for help.

* * *

I tried very hard to think of who could have kidnapped Clockwork over the course of the week, but nothing came to mind. Clockwork seemed unstoppable, untouchable even. I didn't know how to take this information; it just seemed impossible for Clockwork to be gone. At least the universe wasn't pulling apart at the seams—yet.

On top of this, I had a number of growing problems. First off was this Protector and Source thing I had to figure out, but according to Clockwork, I could put it on hold until I figured out what was happening to all of the ghosts.

There were none around, here or in the Ghost Zone—even the Box Ghost wasn't around to annoy me to death. I had gone back into the Ghost Zone to try and find some clues, but there was nothing I could figure out except that the same white ship that took Clockwork was the same one that stole everyone else. Each major ghost's lair was ruble, just like the Time Tower. The only one that was untouched was Pariah's Keep, and that told me that these people knew the legends, or they were waiting to have more powerful means to take on the Ghost King.

With these major ghost-side problems came my normal human ones. My parents were putting the pressure on me to get good grades, and they were closing putting on even more pressure about college and taking over the business. My blood boiled at these discussions, not wanting any part with it, but I still didn't know my future and I wanted to figure it out myself, not for my parents to pave it for me.

Also, the troubling thought that they could hide from me that I had a brother was disturbing. I felt betrayed, wounded like an animal shot in the heart. I knew I had good reasons for lying to my parents, but I still hated doing it. I hated hiding my true-self from them, but it couldn't be helped. They hated ghosts and wouldn't see past the ecto-plasma base. For them to lie to me so easily like this for years, I hated it. I didn't even know why they sent my brother away, I didn't even know his name.

Of course there was Valerie as well. She was avoiding me like the plague, I couldn't even get a glimpse of her face to see what she was feeling. I knew I should give her time to adjust, but I also knew we had to confront each other some time. I wasn't looking forward to it, and if I knew Valerie well enough, she would try to avoid it forever, so that meant I had to be the one to make the first move.

My life sucks!

"Danny, are you okay?"

I turned to see Sam looking at me worriedly. I hadn't told her or Tucker about that night when Clockwork was taken so they didn't know what I knew. Of course they were hiding their own secrets—like what that woman told them in her smelly van. Of course those were personal things, very deep things and I could understand their want to not talk about them out loud. The need to figure it out on your own.

"I'll live," I told her, shutting my locker door quietly.

I had long since given up lying to Sam, she could spot a lie from me as easily as she could shoot Tucker down in Doomed. I became accustomed to telling her kind of half truths—revealing just enough, but not everything. Sam hated this, but she didn't try and drag it out of me, she knew I would talk after I had come to grips with whatever was bugging me.

"Danny, you've been depressed all week," she pointed out, not backing down like I thought she would. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"Not now Sam, I'm not up to it," I turned tired eyes to her and she held my gaze. "It's almost impossible that you could relate to me, I'm sorry but, I think I need to talk to someone else about my problems—at least my major ones. Can you understand that?"

"Like how I talk to Grandma about my girl problems?" she asked.

"Yeah, something like that," I nodded and started to walk off, but a hand stopped me and shoved me back into the row of lockers.

I heard Sam shriek a second later.

"You need to be put in your place Fenton!"

It wasn't Dash, it was Joel. Joel was a big-shot on the team, a senior this year. When Dash started to back off of me, Joel strolled in and started to pick up speed. He was worse than Dash; in the past, I was just beaten up because of a bad grade or a lost game, now I was beaten up for no reason other than I existed. When Joel spoke to me or my friends, it was hatred, loathing for us outcasts. He saw us as something that should be exterminated.

"Back off Joel, I'm in no mood to deal with you today," I spoke up boldly, each word true down to the last syllable.

I looked around, trying to see if anyone was around to help, but the halls were empty; just my luck. I looked back up at the big senior and scowled.

"I think you'll cooperate," Joel took my head in his hands and twisted it to the side roughly.

I saw Sam, being held by another senior. He had her hands behind her back and a hand over her mouth so she couldn't scream. When Sam screamed, it was more piercing them my Ghostly Wail—she had plenty of practice thanks to her parents' constant push of all things fluffy and pink.

"You know, you're too ugly for a girl like Manson here," Joel told me. "She's quite a catch."

A third member of Joel's gang I hadn't seen earlier, snuck up to Sam and I didn't like the smile on his face. He brought his hand up and ran the back of his fingers across Sam's jaw. She flinched away from him instinctively and I was frozen in fear of what they were going to do.

"Now, I like my girls perky," Joel spoke, calmly and resigned, almost as if he was talking to his friends in the lunch room, "but my buddies here like them a little, darker."

"Don't you dare," I growled at him, he shoved my head into the lockers, making my brain spin.

"Now, now, I think I can make them back off, if you just do one thing for me. Rumor says that you're good at fixing things, like you're a miracle worker or something."

I said nothing, not liking where this was going.

"Now, my boys and I are in kind of a bind. They found narcotics in the gym earlier and I don't need them thinking it was me or my friends."

"But it was you, everyone knows you use."

He slammed my head harder into the metal.

"Yes, but the teachers don't know that. I'm eighteen now Fenton; that means I can get jail time and college is out for me. I can't let that happen now can I? They don't think it was me, since I'm always talking about not using since it ruins your future. But a kid like you, with no future and people don't know anything about, you're perfect."

"You want me to take the fall for you?" I asked incredulously. "Are you stupid?"

He slammed his fist into my gut and I heard his friends laugh.

"No Fenton, you're the stupid one. No one would think twice when they find the drugs in your locker and you confess to everything. I always thought you didn't have a purpose Fenton, but I guess I was wrong."

"You know they're going to want to do a narcotic's test on me."

"That can easily be arranged, or forced on you, that is your choice. Of course, they probably won't bother. It would solve all of the mysteries about you, and it wouldn't surprise me if it was true."

"I won't do it."

"I knew you were going to say that, now I can't talk my boys out of anything if you disagree."

The guy with his hands free began to let his fingers creep up Sam's shirt. She kicked at him, but the other guy's hold was strong and she couldn't writhe out of his grip.

"What do you say now Fenton?" Joel asked me, sounding smug.

All of my hate, all of my confusion and pent-up frustration came to the surface in something that was completely inhuman. I hissed at Joel like an animal, a deep throated growl escaping my throat that surprised me and Sam. Joel and his buddies laughed, thinking it was some kind of pathetic attempt at sounding threatening to them—if only they knew.

"Back off," I said, growl still evident and a slight echo to my words, as if I was in ghost form.

I pushed Joel off of me, only it was just a push. I sent him flying, his body flying into the next row of lockers and completely demolishing them. It wouldn't surprise me if he was dead. I turned glowing, hate-filled eyes on his buddies and growled at them, walking up slowly.

They ran of course, not dumb enough to stick around with an angry ghost. They shoved Sam down to the floor in their haste and I quickly came back to my senses, joining her there and hugging her tightly.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

"I'm fine," her voice wasn't shaking, but I could detect the fear. "Danny, what was that?"

"I'm not sure, but I didn't like it," I said pulling her to her feet. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I'm going to hunt them down and—"

A low groan stopped my words and I looked to see Joel stirring. It was a miracle that he didn't have a concussion. Sam pulled at my arm and we both ran from the scene of the crime, hoping Joel wouldn't remember anything that had happened to him. We fled down the steps of the school and down the sidewalk, not knowing where else to go.

* * *

Eventually, we stuck to hanging out at the park. It was last period that we skipped anyway, and I could always go back and get out bags if we needed them. We waited for Tucker to get there after he called, wondering what had happened. The whole school was talking about what had happened to Joel. They didn't have any suspects, but Tucker knew I was involved somehow.

"He was going to hurt Sam," I told him simply, that monster just bubbling on the surface.

"He wanted Danny to take the fall for him," Sam explained. "Wanted Danny to admit to using drugs. If he did, Joel wouldn't hurt me—or his buddies."

"I blew my top," I finished.

"Understandable," Tucker nodded, "I mean, there haven't been any ghosts to punch around so I guess you're filled with energy you don't normally have."

"Yeah, I guess so, but I don't feel any different than normal."

"But Danny, you are different," Sam said, I looked at her baffled.

"Of course I am Sam, that's what makes me half-ghost," I told her.

"No, I mean you're habits are different. Haven't you noticed that you haven't been eating much anymore? I mean, I understood that you had to skip a meal or two before, but there hasn't been a major ghost attack in weeks and you're still eating less."

"Yeah, sometimes you go whole days without eating," Tucker pointed out, getting out his trusty PDA and looking through logs he must have taken down about my diet. "You've only had one lunch and two breakfasts this whole week, I'm not sure about dinners, but you've never eaten when we eat anymore. You never even snack."

"I, haven't noticed," I said truthfully, I didn't _feel _hungry.

"Danny, you not eating is doing damage to your body," Sam spoke up again, looking at me worriedly. "Your ghost side must be holding you up somehow, but you look wasted now. This past week, you're just shrinking away faster than usual."

"And you're not sleeping," Tucker put in. "I overheard my mother talking with yours and according to her, you haven't slept a wink at all in the past month."

"But, I am, I think," I put a hand to my head, everything suddenly feeling fuzzy. "I'm confused. I never noticed that I was tiered or hungry. Tired mentally yeah, but I've felt fine otherwise."

"Danny, we're worried about you," Sam said.

I was going to say something to reassure her, but my phone rang in my pocket and I had to answer it. Mom was on the other line, sounding furious. She wanted me home at once. I sighed and hung up the phone.

"I got to go," I told my friends and left.

* * *

"Danny, you've gone too far now," Mom said, nearly yelling it in my face.

"What did I do?" I asked, completely baffled as to why she was acting this way.

"You nearly killed a fellow student Mr. Fenton," Mr. Lancer said.

My jaw dropped, seeing my teacher on my living room couch. My dad was next to him, looking stern, but uncomfortable. Punishing wasn't his area in the parental department—embarrassing your kid was more of his deal then Mom's—okay they were both really good at the embarrassing part but Mom was harsh when it came to punishments.

"Joel identified you as the student that shoved him into the lockers, but how you managed to do it," Mr. Lancer shook his head. "But there is no denying that you did it. We are going to have to suspend you from school."

"Suspension!?" I yelled. "This is completely unfair! How do you even know it was me?"

"Joel said he saw you do it," Dad spoke up softly.

"So, they guy probably has a concussion," I said, sputtering over my own words.

"He said that you were high and went delusional," Mr. Lancer said, eyes narrowing. "To be honest, it makes perfect sense."

"What!? That's crazy! I don't use."

"It would explain things Danny," Mom said, voice hard and eyes harder. "What you've been doing to yourself, your appearance. We've had it, now we're taking action."

"I've already signed you up for a treatment center Danny," Mr. Lancer spoke, rising from the couch. "They're the best in the state, they can handle anything that you're having trouble with."

"Trouble?" I said, voice dangerously low and my eye twitching slightly. "I'm not having trouble with anything."

"Danny don't lie to us, it's over," Mom spoke. "We know you're stressed about everything that's been going on—"

I snapped then.

"Stressed!? Don't talk to me about stress!" I yelled at them, my hands balling up and my eyes glowing a sickly neon-yellow. "You have no idea what I have to deal with and you think it's stress! Let me tell you something—it's NOT!"

The T.V. blew up, and I didn't notice their wide-eyed stares.

"I've been helping this crummy little town for three years, the world even and how do you people repay me? By sending hunters after me! By putting laws out and a bounty on my head! And those weapons!"

The basement began to smoke as various small explosions were heard echoing in the tiled room.

"All I've done is protect you people, and you think I'm some sort of criminal!" I continued to rant. "Now you think I'm using? You have no idea what it's like!"

Dad hopped up from his chair as it suddenly flew up and crashed into the ceiling. Various objects around us floated, glass in the windows cracking and the temperature dropping fiercely, but I didn't notice—I didn't care.

"Every time some new stupid invention comes into the house, I have to dismantle it or hide it to make sure I'm not found out, to make sure I'm not hurt. Every time I turn my back, another ghost is there, wanting to take over the town or have a piece of my hide. All those sleepless nights were because I was trying to stop ghosts from taking over the planet! Every failed test was because I rescued some stranger off the street from an untimely death. Do you know how many times I had to save the universe itself!? I've traveled in time, seen things no other person could possibly see, and probably never will.

"I've done things and can do things no other person can do, and it drives me insane because I can never tell anybody about it. If I do, it's straight to the dissection table! I don't even know if I'm fully dead!"

The clock in the hall was spinning out of control, the windows blown out and the light glinting off of the shards that littered the yard and the carpet. Ice began to build around the walls and the picture-frames began to crack.

"I'm tired of people trying to run my life! They don't even know what I am, so don't judge me until you know what I have to deal with!"

I was spent, my energy burned out and everything came back to earth with giant clatters and bangs. I fell to my knees, feeling the glass from the windows digging into the skin of my shins and palms of my hands as I tried to stay steady. The world spun, I felt ill.

"Danny?"

I turned away from whoever was talking and retched on the carpet, nearly fainting with the exertion I put on myself. I felt hands on my back as they turned me over after I stopped heaving. I was too dazed to care what was happening to me. The world swam unsteadily and the murmurs of voices were loud in my ears, but I couldn't make out words.

The last thing I remember very clearly was my body laying on a cool surface and hands running over me as they tried to do something to me. I tried to fight back, but I was too weak to do so. I only ended up making myself fall from the cool surface only to hit something else. I felt my nose smash into my face and a faint cry that came from my throat. My head hurt worse then and I blacked out.

* * *

I jerked awake, my head leaving the surface slightly before I put it back down on the pillow. I felt awful; everything hurt, my eyes felt heavy, and my stomach churned uneasily. I felt weak, unable to turn over and lift my upper body off of the—what was I laying on anyway?

"Danny?"

Mom's face came into view, her face looking haggard and worried, but her eyes looked me over critically.

"Honey, are you really awake this time?" she asked me.

I only blinked lazily, unable to find my voice. Mom ran her fingers over my face and down my neck. I could feel the sweat roll off of my skin and onto her gloves as she moved them.

"Good, you're sweating," she said, moving my hair back out of my eyes. "You gave us a scare sweety."

I was confused, I had no idea what she was talking about. She must have interpreted my look correctly because she started to explain.

"You're sick honey, you had a bad fever but it broke a little while ago. You just need to sweat it out now. Is your nose any better?"

I wrinkled said part of my body once she mentioned it. It did feel odd, as if it was bandaged or something. Mom was gentle in taking the bandages off after my feeble attempt at taking them off myself. She was a little stunned to see it was perfectly fine, but she didn't look as surprised as she should have.

She reached up out of my line of sight to fix something and then returned her look to my eyes. I began to feel the heat of my fever and it made me terribly uncomfortable. I shifted, trying to find a cool spot on the bed but I couldn't move much. Everything felt wet and warm to me.

Mom got a wet cloth from nowhere and put it around my neck to make me stop fidgeting. It felt good, as if it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen.

"Does that help sweety?" Mom asked.

I could only moan low in my throat—it felt so _good _right now that I could barely tell I was sick.

"Jack, we'll need more of that concoction. It's helping him a lot. His levels are coming back up already," Mom spoke behind her, over her shoulder, but I was already drifting off again. "Danny, don't sleep just yet, we need to get another sample."

She patted the side of my face to bring me back around. It gave me a slight shock, but I wanted to sleep so badly. I felt a sharp prick—I'm not sure where on my body but I felt it—and I shifted uncomfortably again, whimpering at the feeling.

"Shush, it's okay," Mom's voice told me quietly, stroking my hair until the pinch left.

"That's it sport," Dad's voice said, and I felt his larger hand ruffle my hair. "We won't need another one for awhile."

I sank deeper into the comforter, feeling weaker than before. Mom kept bathing me in that cool liquid and I was thankful for it. I sort of dazed off for a while, not entirely in sleep and not awake either. My breathing was slow and steady, I had a hard time trying to breathe normally. At one time, I began to panic because I was afraid I wasn't getting enough air, but Mom was there and soothed me back down.

"It's okay Danny, you're okay," she chanted over and over again. "You're fine."

I believed her, she was the only thing I could believe at the moment. Breathing slower than normal felt odd, but I wasn't uncomfortable. I got use to it after a few hours, though I still sort of panicked every now and then. Mom always brought me back down, sometimes I wondered if she was worried I would worry myself to death.

"Mads, his strands are stabilizing, I think he's out of the thickest part, but not completely out of the woods," Dad's voice said, softly as if I was sleeping. "Danny, you need to sleep. Your body needs to recuperate."

"He's right hon," Mom said, taking the cloth off of my forehead to dip it again. "Go to sleep, we're going to be here the whole time so don't worry about anything. Just sleep."

I took her advice, their voices melding into blurs as I went completely senseless.

* * *

I woke up more slowly the second time. I didn't feel as bad, but I wasn't a 100% either. For the first time, I was able to tell I was in the lab, on one of the examination tables. I wasn't strapped down though and my blankets were on me, my pillow still there from when I woke up the first time. I was shirtless, wires of all sorts stuck to my chest. I had some weird monitor thing tapped around my finger and an I.V. needle stuck in my right arm. I looked up to see the bag was dripping some sort of mixture I couldn't recognize, but I realized it wasn't normal human fluid. It was glowing slightly and green in color. It wasn't ecto-plasma, but it wasn't morphine either.

Small beeping noises brought my eyes to a large screen, keeping a watch on my vitals. My breathing was slow, and my heart beat was even slower. I counted at least thirty seconds before it beat again. That would be enough to give someone a stroke and die.

"Danny," Mom came into my view again, "how do you feel?"

"Lousy," I said, but I could barely hear myself.

She must have heard me though because she smiled sadly.

"I'm not surprised, would you like something to drink?"

I didn't have to nod to tell her yes. She gave me a glass and helped me sip from it without needing an answer.

"What happened?" I asked.

"That's kind of complicated," Mom said slowly. "I don't think you're up to anything right now, but you have improved a lot since last night."

"How long was I out?"

"A couple of days. Don't worry about school, Lancer understands."

"So I'm not suspended?"

It was a stupid thing to ask, but I wasn't really myself at the time.

Mom's smile was humored now as she shook her head.

"No hon, you're not suspended. You're not in trouble of any kind anymore."

I sighed heavily, feeling a great weight lifted off of my chest.

"What's in the I.V.?" I asked.

"Supplements," Mom said quickly, "um, ghostly ones."

I blinked.

"You're body was lacking the vitamins a ghost needs. We just gave you the ones you need. With all of the energy you carry around with you, I'm surprised that you didn't burn out sooner."

"I don't understand," I said after a moment.

"I know you don't, which I why I'll explain after you are fully rested. Okay?"

"Fine," I settled back into bed, feeling sleepy again, "and Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for not tearing me apart molecule by molecule."

She winced but nodded. I reached out with my hand and clamped onto hers.

"I don't blame you for anything," I told her firmly. "Everything was my fault, I should have told you sooner."

"Danny, not now," she her other hand over mine though. "You need your rest okay?"

I nodded and yawned, closing my eyes and letting the hum of the Ghost Zone sing me to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Behold I arise from the grave! First thing you all should know, graduation is around the corner and finals are in three weeks. I've been a busy be with applying for colleges and the like. I finally chose and I'm going to be majoring in art at Coffeeville Community College in August. So once finals are out of the way, summer will be here and that means more time for plotting and planning on how to mess Danny up. I must say, I surprise even myself with this one._**

* * *

I slept heavily through the next two days. I hadn't seen Tucker or Sam during the whole time, but I sure got an eye-full of my parents. They were constantly hovering over me, even in my sleep I was sure. It was worry that kept them near me, worry that I would have a relapse of that fever or whatever it was and fear that I might destabilize or something. At least that was what they acted like.

At first they encouraged me to sleep, but near the second day, I saw the looks on their faces when I often drifted off because I had nothing else to do. They were worried that I was sleeping too much.

But they were so _over protective! _

I was lucky if they let me sit up in bed. They wouldn't let me set foot on the ground. I tried to convince them that I was fine, but my voice and I'm sure my face didn't convince them very well.

"Can't I just sit on the floor or something?" I asked Dad as he sat at the computer, typing away at another sample reading. "I'm tired of being on this table, my legs are cramping."

Mom had gone upstairs to get me something to eat, after much pleading on my part. I was starving, but Mom didn't want me to puke it back up since I still had traces of a high temperature, but I was getting better—I think. Besides, my stomach was fine. I finally convinced her to give me something light.

"Sorry Danny, but if your mother says that you stay on the table, you stay on the table," Dad said, looking at me with eyes that said he wanted to help, but he didn't want to face Mom's wrath.

I rolled my eyes upward. I shoved the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the table. Dad caught my actions and was about to say something, but I held a hand up for him not to make a sound. I cautiously looked up the steps, wondering if Mom saw me yet. She wasn't in sight, so that meant I was free to do this.

"Danny . . ."

I sat cross-legged in the air, taking a deep relaxing breath because I was finally free from the table. I floated over to look over my Dad's shoulder, but I sensed that I was making him uncomfortable.

"Is this too much?" I asked him, backing off a little.

"Well, you have to understand, it isn't normal for us," Dad gestured to himself, keeping his eyes on me.

"Well, it's the opposite for me," I shrugged, just stating a matter of fact as simply as I could without freaking my father out of his skin. "What are you working on?"

"A sample of your blood."

"I know that, but what are you doing to it?"

"Well, we're, testing it," it sounded like he didn't want to tell me exactly what they were testing it on.

"Dad, you know my secret now . . . and I know yours. Please be truthful with me," I pleaded with him.

Dad's eyes became round, his mouth a small 'O' in his shock. I just floated and waited for him to respond, but my mother beat him to it.

"Daniel Fenton!" she shouted, seeing me out of bed. "You get back over to that table this instant."

"What? I'm not on my feet," I argued back, but her stare was enough to make me oblige without much fighting. "It doesn't take much to hover you know."

She looked at me oddly as she set the tray of toast and water in front of me. I hate toast.

"That may be true, but what if you had a relapse?" she pointed out.

"Guys, I've been setting here for almost three days, and I've had a lot of energy building up for a long time. If I don't let some of it go, I'm afraid that I'm going to explode—again."

It was true, sometimes I couldn't help but shake with all of the pent up energy that raged through my body. I had to let it go somehow, but I don't think Mom was going to let me do anything for a long, long time. However, they looked at me with concern again after I was finished. I looked at them, wondering if I had said the wrong thing.

"I'm not going to explode am I?" I asked warily.

"No honey, it's almost impossible for ectoplasm to spontaneously combust without some source of heat," Mom said, digging through the shelves for something. "However, if too much is brought to a solitary place and trapped, then it can expand and harm its prison."

"So I'll just stretch out?" I scratched my head. "This isn't helping me any."

"You could harm your body if you're carrying too much energy," Dad put into simpleton terms for me.

"Thank you," I told him.

"You know, you're really taking this in stride," Dad said after a puzzled frown formed on his face. "I would think that you would be worried."

"I'm more worried about you and Mom," I said, frowning at him. "I mean, I've come close to death on a daily biases and you guys thought I was off doing something stupid. To find out that I'm not all there—well I was kind of worried about your sanity, not mine."

Mom found what she was looking for and brought it over towards me: a small hand held thing that looked like it belonged on Star Trek with Spock. It made beeping noises as Mom swept it over my body at a distance. She circled me once and when she came back around the beeping stopped and she glanced at the machine.

"You're fine sweet heart," she said, turning it off. "You're levels are coming back down to normal and they aren't putting a strain on your physical body. I think you can stand to not stand."

"Wait! My physical body? What does that mean?"

They looked at each other nervously first before turning back to me.

"The body you're wearing now," Mom explained slowly, watching my face as she spoke. "You can't use much of your energy while you're in human form, you'd burn up to a crisp and your ghost form would destabilize since it has so much energy. Your ghost half and your human half need each other to survive. Your ghost half is so unstable that it could blow to the wind, but your human half grounds it here and the human half can't survive without the ghost half since the human half would die instantly. For this to be possible, you need two bodies surviving in one."

I thought about it, but something didn't make me feel very comfortable with this.

"So," I spoke up, "if my human half can't survive without the ghost—does that mean that I really died?"

"I'm sorry Danny but, it looks that way," Dad said quietly. "Just how did this happen anyway?"

"The portal," I pointed at it with disdain. "Stupid thing shocked me—nice going putting the 'on' button on the inside."

"That would explain it," Dad mused, but he quickly turned back to the matter at hand. "But that should have killed you."

"Well, the ectoplasm in there scrambled my genes."

"No," Mom shook her head. "Danny, that portal doesn't have any ectoplasm running through it. You only got shocked with electricity."

I sat there, stunned by what she just said. So, I didn't have any ectoplasm to blame for this. I only pressed the button and got shocked. Only it was like shocking my finger in a giant electrical socket. I _should _have died.

"What I don't understand is why you aren't dead," Dad spoke up for me. "Well, completely dead anyway."

"Something must have grounded you here," Mom thought out. "That something might also be your ghostly obsession."

My obsession—I didn't think I had one. I told her so out-loud.

"But every ghost has an obsession," Dad shouted. "That's what makes them ghosts."

"But some obsessions are more subtle and less noticeable then others," Mom said coming over to him and patting his head. "Maybe because Danny is still human he doesn't have one, but he might. We'll just have to watch closely."

I knew they were just curious—I was curious myself—but I really hoped that they wouldn't turn me into some sort of experiment unintentionally.

"Can I at least call my friends?" I asked Mom. "They'll be worried about me."

Mom lent me a phone and I called Sam first. I figured that if I didn't, she would do something horribly graphic and wrong with my internal organs. She was stony quiet when she answered and as I explained I could feel her loosen up on the other end. By the time I was done, she was half way out her door and running towards Fenton Works.

Tucker wouldn't shut up with questions. Eventually, I told him to head to my house and hung up before he asked if I had lost a limb. I hesitated on calling Valerie. I mean, she knew my secret, but I wasn't sure if this was the best way to confront her. Well, it beat getting a gun stuck in my face.

I dialed her number before I lost my nerve and waited, palms sweating, as the phone rang. I was about to hang up when I heard the click on the other line and Valerie's voice asking: "What do you want Fenton?"

Her voice was icy, likely with resentment at having not been told this whole time.

"To explain," I said as if it summed everything up, but I knew it didn't even come close. "Look, I wanted to tell you, really. I just didn't know if I could trust you."

"I understand that," Valerie's voice was soft with understanding. "I wanted to tell you too, but I guess you knew the whole time."

"Kinda," I agreed—boy this conversation was going better than I thought.

"So what do we do now?" Valerie asked, lost as to what to do.

"We resolve and become friends for ever and ever," I half joked. "Tucker and Sam are on their way to my house, why don't you join us. I know Tucker would be glad to see you."

I pictured Valerie debating with herself on the other line, biting her lip and the gears whirring in her head as she thought about my offer.

"I'll be right over," she said and hung up with a click.

I sighed and stretched my arms over my head when I hung up the phone for good. Talking to my friends helped me whine down and making up with Valerie really improved my mood.

Still, I was troubled about everything else. My explosion probably didn't look good in front of my vice-principle, and upstairs was probably a mess. I also had this ghost thing to worry about. The Ghost Zone was unnaturally quiet because of the lack of ghosts. Someone had been stealing them and I had to figure out why. They had my friend the Time Lord and that wouldn't bode well for all humanity if Time was left to stand as it had been for the past couple of weeks.

I could already feel the earth slowing down, the air getting colder, and the people grow restless. They knew something was wrong, but they had no idea what. If I let this continue, it could probably be irreversible. Clockwork also said that a friend would be coming to help me out—I didn't know which friend he meant, but I don't think it would be a human one. Maybe he meant Dani, my female clone. She could know what was going on, but she would have to be a long ways away or hurt to not get to me now if this had been happening for months. I hoped that she wasn't captured with them.

Sam, Tucker, and Valerie all arrived at the same time, which was kind of odd since I had called them at separate times and they lived quite a ways from each other. I bet it had to do with Clockwork's absence.

Sam ran down the stairs and hugged my fiercely when she saw me.

"Careful, I'm not supposed to be on my feet," I warned her, looking at my mom as I spoke.

"Huh?" Sam asked, puzzled then noticed Mom and Dad there for the first time.

I explained to them what happened and they all looked a little nervous. I didn't blame them, I was scared myself when I came back to my senses.

"And that's not the worst of it," I said, catching Mom and Dad's attention. "Clockwork is gone."

Tucker dropped his PDA, Sam gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Valerie didn't know what to do, but she knew from my tone that I was serious and that it wasn't good news.

"But how!?" Tucker yelled. "He's the master of all time! How could he be gone?"

"Taken," I spat out. "I was right there and I let it happen Tucker. Someone took him."

"Shouldn't he have seen that coming then?" Valerie asked, an eyebrow quirked at our conversation.

"It's not a joke Val," Sam said, clearly worried. "Without Clockwork, time itself will unravel. Everything will be gone—Danny, when did this happen?"

"Day after we got our fortunes told," I said looking down at the floor. "I was trying to work it out on my own, but I have no idea who took Clockwork—and he's not the only one missing by the way. The whole Zone is vacant."

Dad blinked when I said that, almost saying it was impossible but he didn't open his mouth. He went over to the DNA scanner and opened up the portal, but no noise emitted from its green depths. The whole dimension was utterly quiet. All of us stared in disbelief at it. Normally the whole Zone is filled with screaming and wailing and junk like that, but it was so quiet that you could hear a feather land on the floor.

"This is bad," Sam said, going even paler then was healthy for her. "Without the ghosts around . . ."

"I know, it's bad," I said. "Dad, please shut that thing."

Dad did as I asked and I sighed again, this time in confusion.

"Whoever took the ghosts was human, they could pass through stuff in the Zone easily," I said after a moment. "They knew what they were doing, almost as if they had been told secrets that weren't suppose to be told."

"You think one of the ghosts is a traitor?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't see how that could be done unless Plasmius went back on our deal. No, something else is going on."

"Danny," Mom said, sounding like she didn't want to interrupt us. "Do you mind filling us in?"

"Yeah spooky," Valerie said, crossing her arms. "It would be nice to be up to date if you want our help."

"It's a long story," I sat back and Tucker and Sam braced themselves for a long talk. "Mom, Dad, you remember last summer when I went on a camping trip?"

"Yeah, the house was so quiet that summer," Dad mused.

"Well, I wasn't exactly on earth at the time," I confessed. "I was with Clockwork that whole time. He wanted to show me some things and he knew my summer would be free."

"Wait, you spent the whole summer in the Ghost Zone?" Mom stared at me with a look that said I was in big trouble.

"Well, yeah, but that isn't the point. Clockwork is also my guardian, I learn ghost things from him all of the time since he was one of the Ancients that locked Pariah Dark in his prison and he's kind of responsible for me. He's told me a lot of secrets, most that I can't reveal, but I can explain the balance of here and the Ghost Zone."

"Well tell us!" Dad and Mom shouted, both ready with pencils and paper.

I shook my head, but started in my explanation, "The Ghost Zone and Earth are connected, as you already know. What you don't know is that they rely on each other to survive. Energies are exchanged between the living and the dead, energies that are needed in both realms. Without the ghosts around, humanity will destroy itself. Ghosts help exchange the changes of emotions and energies here on earth. With no one to exchange them around, then humans can't function properly. Too much negative energy will float around and World War Three will start and end everything. Ghosts need humans to survive, thus why they feed on emotions and the energies that are given off. Originally, the dead and the living knew of each other, but tolerated it since they knew they couldn't live without each other. In many cases, ghosts and humans became friends, but then something happened. We're still not sure what, but it separated humans and ghosts forever."

Mom and Dad were staring at me with disbelieving faces, Valerie looked ready to rip my head off at the mentioned of actually _needing _ghosts here on Earth. Sam and Tucker had already heard this spiel so they just watched the reactions on everyone's faces.

"And all we want to do is destroy them," Dad said shaking his head. "I never thought about what it might do to the world. We've never thought about it but, Earth and the Ghost Zone have existed since the beginning of time. Of course they would have to be connected, and somehow, the world would have to come to terms with it and survive. It would be like changing the whole ecosystem on the planet."

"One way to put it," I said. "Plus some ghosts just want to be left in peace. They do come to earth from time to time, but only to take what they need, and feeding doesn't hurt people."

"You do it?" Valerie asked.

"Danny only sucks up the positive energy," Sam quickly jumped in to defend me. "We think it has to do with his human half."

"That makes some sense to me," Mom nodded, "but Danny, how serious is this?"

"The world will shrivel up and die if we don't find out what happened to the ghosts and get them back. They'll forever be in my debt so I could work out something with them to make the town a bit more safe."

"But how are we going to find them?" Dad asked.

"I don't know," I admitted.

* * *

The next day I was released from my bed and was able to go and see what damage I had caused. Apparently, Mom had stayed beside me after they had me stabilized while I was sick. While Mom was taking care of me, Dad cleaned up the living room and various other areas that had succumbed to my tantrum. He did a very good job too. The only thing that could tell you that something had happened was the missing furniture, T.V., and windows in the front of the house.

I winced internally at everything. Normally Dad was the one to break stuff in an odd way. This time it was my fault and I felt really guilty about it. I should have just told my parents a long time ago and spared the innocent couch and recliner of my tantrum.

Out of force of habit, I walked over to the fridge to see if I could scrounge anything up for a snack. I was starving for something sweet. When I opened it, the normal sounds of the ecto-samples-gone-wrong met my ears with sweet normality.

"Shut up," I muttered to them as I pulled the juice away from a very suspicious looking piece of lettuce.

Shutting the door, I drank right from the carton, and spitting it back out when a sour taste met my tongue. Looking at the expiration date, I saw it was bad—very, very bad—and tossed the whole thing down the sink. Yep, everything normal so far.

"Glad to see you up," Dad said, his big feet warning me that he was coming down the stairs long before his voice reached me.

"Great to be up," I told him, sitting down at the table. "So, you're okay with this?"

"With what?" Dad seemed clueless as usual.

"With me being a ghost? With me being Phantom? You guys aren't going to ground me or anything?"

"Danny, why would we punish you for something that you didn't do wrong?" Dad looked confused.

"But, I lied to you guys, for years. And I stole from you, plus I kind of –maybe—destroyed a few gadgets in the past."

Dad only shook his head, a small smile on his face as if he found the whole thing funny.

"We don't blame you Danny for doing that stuff. I mean, we wanted nothing more than to destroy ghosts. I'd be lying too if it were me, but your little outburst did send up some red flags."

"What do you mean?" I tensed my body, ready to spring for it if a trap was in the mix.

"Well, that flare just wasn't from emotional distress, it was a power surge—it just used the anger as a way out. If it had been suppressed any longer, you probably would have taken out the whole block by accident."

"So, you're saying my powers grew again?" I questioned and Dad nodded. "So, I have a new power?"

"Or several," Dad nodded again. "We'd like to make a list today of all your normal ones and see what that flare did to you exactly. We still have notes on your ghost half—"

"That are completely ludicrous."

Dad blushed at this, but went on, "and we think we can pin-point exactly what new powers you have."

"You can do that?"

"Yep! It's a simple matter of—"

I stared at him with a look that said 'are you really going to do this now?'

"Right," he brought himself back to the present and took out a pad and pen from nowhere it seemed. "Start with the basics."

I listed my powers off for him, the basics he pretty much jotted down himself, but he also wanted to know how far the basics extended. The basics being flight, invisibility, and intangibility.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked him after he asked me.

"I mean how powerful are your basics: can you turn yourself invisible, or the whole house if you wanted too? How fast can you fly and how high before you begin to suffocate—since you do still need to breath. Those sort of things."

"I never thought about those things," I admitted. "But we can find out."

I put my hands on the table and slowly worked my invisibility into the wood.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Dad warned me before the table completely disappeared.

"I'll stop when it becomes too much," I assured him and continued to maneuver the invisibility towards the rest of the house.

It wasn't a strain to cover the kitchen and the basement and it only became a little tedious when I got to the upstairs bedrooms. Soon, the whole house was covered and I wasn't sure where to go next, so I just let it expand. The moment I let go of it, a small explosion rocked the inside of my body and I gasped at the jolt it gave off. Soon, I was everywhere: at the park, in the school hallways, even the mayor's office. I could feel that my body was rooted here, but at the same time, my mind was all over Amity Park, looking at everything at once. I was certain of everything around the city, living and dead. I knew where everyone was, what they were saying, what they were doing. I was becoming overwhelmed with all of the information, but I didn't know how to shut it off.

Dad, I could feel Dad in the house, he was shaking me, trying to get me back to him. I wanted to go back, but I wasn't sure how. I was fighting myself and was losing badly. My mind retreated from the school and the park, most of the city was now absent of me, but my mind shifted to the outer parts of the city, near the abandoned train station and old relic that was the original Amity Park when the settlers came and bunked down to make a living. Why I was here, I didn't have a clue, but then my world became blindingly white and then black for a second.

"Danny, can you hear me?"

I moaned a response, lifting my head from the table slowly so I wouldn't aggravate my headache. My head was pounding and making me feel sick all over again. I felt hands on my shoulders and realized that someone was preventing me from falling out of my chair.

"Danny, are you still with us?" Mom's scared voice touched my ears.

"That never happened before," I mumbled, trying to stand but something stopped me.

I looked down and saw my hands were clamped around the table so hard that my knuckles were white and I was indenting the wood. I tried prying my fingers away, but I couldn't find the strength to move them.

"I'm stuck," I confessed after a moment.

Dad came over and started to unbend my fingers, and it took all of his effort not to grunt when he did so. My fingers came off slowly, one by one, until they were finally free. They just curled back up into a fist again, but at least I wasn't glued to the table.

"What happened?" Mom asked me as Dad walked around to get my other hand.

"I don't know," I said, no idea why I was whispering to her.

Dad eventually freed my other hand and together, Mom and Dad picked me up and took me back downstairs. They ran a few scanners over me, just to make sure everything was alright, but I didn't comprehend any of it. My mind was still whirling with what just happened.

"I think I know what my new power is," I spoke up out of the blue. "I can locate things, know where everything is at the same time and find one specific thing."

Mom and Dad looked at each other with concern and confusion.

"I'm my own personal GPS," I muttered to the ceiling.

"Danny, please get a grip," Mom said with worry.

"Whatever that flair was, it really messed with his energy levels," Dad spoke. "I think rest will set his body back to rights, nothing to serious. Just wait for everything to recede back to normal levels."

"That would explain why he's babbling on about nothing," Mom said. "Does he need an injection of the stabilizer again?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

By now I was halfway out of this world and into the next. What they were talking about didn't concern me as much as it should have. In the back of my mind, I was aware that I should be asking questions, but my mouth wouldn't move and my brain couldn't think up of anything to ask.

I felt a needle going into my shoulder and didn't fight against it. Whatever was happening, was pulling me towards sleep and I let it.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Well it took me long enough, but I knew exactly what I wanted for this chapter. Moves the plot along and really gets into Danny's new powers. R&R please!**_

* * *

Mom would so kill me if she found out I snuck out that night. It use to be easy enough to phase through the wall of my bedroom while leaving the door locked so they couldn't come barging in—it wasn't that simple anymore. While I was passed out in the lab, my parents had recalibrated all of their safety and security devices to ignore me—while I was inside the house that is. If I stepped one intangible foot out that door, the security would alert Mom to my sneaking out.

So, how did I accomplish the other night you might ask? Simple, I snuck through the basement window and climbed out like any other normal teen would do. As a precaution, I waited until I was a block away from my house to turn Phantom and hightail my tail out of there.

A dream came to me—prophetic I know, but it did happen—and gave me an idea for a source for some answers on my troubles. I didn't know why I didn't think of this before, probably because I didn't want to bother him, but I didn't have many other options then trying to get caught myself—and Sam would do Skulker's job if I tried that.

It wasn't hard finding the hidden gates in the overgrown foliage. Apparently, my GPS power still worked even if I didn't want it too, but that was alright as long as it didn't give me a headache again. I landed in front of the gates and put my hand on the rusty iron.

"It's really been that long?"

I rarely let a flashback complete itself in my mind, but this one I let by.

It was two years ago, almost three actually now that I think about it. My number one enemy was still Vlad Masters, but he wouldn't be much longer. It wasn't anything anyone was expecting, not even Vlad himself.

Vlad was being nominated for his second term as mayor of Amity Park. My family had been on the sidelines, I had been up on the roof, watching out for any ghostly activity as the parade for Vlad's campaign party trumped down Main Street.

It was a heck of a party, balloons with Vlad's face on them where everywhere, there was loud cheering and shouting from below as the people praised their oh so great leader. Vlad was in the back of an open car, traveling at four miles an hour and waving at everyone on the sidelines. His smile was pained, I could see that much and I realized he hated this. His pain caused me to chuckle. He had gotten himself in that mess after all.

The shot took everyone off guard. Three seconds after the sound started, Vlad toppled over and landed in the street. People started screaming and running around like panicked sheep before a pair of sheers. My brain jumped at the thought of danger and I swiftly flew down to where Vlad had fallen.

"Vlad, you alright?" I asked him, but his eyes were dazed, open and moving, but dazed.

I looked up and saw something move from one of the windows. I promised Vlad I would be right back and I took off after the guy. I was too late though—he vanished as good as a ghost and was never caught, but things with Vlad would never be the same.

The bullet had penetrated Vlad's spine, not killing him, but hampering his life forever. He wasn't very happy when he found out he was paralyzed from the shoulder's down, he could twitch his fingers a little, but that was all. On top of that, something bad went down at Vlad's company while he was indisposed. The whole company was gone, bought out by some big-shot when Vlad couldn't stop him. If Vlad hadn't put a large sum aside just for himself, he would have been left out on the street. Everything was gone, his mansion, his employs (including his ghostly ones), even the cat he thought I didn't know about.

His ghostly powers were also affected. He could still use them, but if he wanted to go through a great deal of pain. He actually told me he would rather go through the proto-portal incident all over again then have to go through this. Unfortunately, I wasn't the ghost in control of time.

Vlad now lived in seclusion, not wanting to be bothered by anyone. He had no more thirst for vengeance, only wanting to wallow and live in his misery and depression. I came around to check up on him every now and again. He never turned me away, but I don't think he was ever very happy to see me either. He didn't threaten me anymore, but the thought that he had wanted to kill my father kept us from being friends. He was a trusted ally, nothing more.

I walked right into the house and up the stairs, knowing exactly where Vlad was going to be. He spent most of his time in the library, staring out the windows at the view of Amity Park, as if wishing he could rejoin civilization, but kept himself from doing so.

"Daniel," he said at hearing me walk up behind him, "what brings you here?"

"I'm in a few pickles and I was wondering if you would hear me out," I told him, standing beside him.

I looked down at the crumpled old man in the wheelchair. Before the incident, Vlad had looked younger because of his powers, but now since they were no use to him, he let his misery take over and it made him look a hundred years old. His skin was grey pale and sagging over his bones, his hair was messy and out of control, and his fingers shook like an old man's, trembling as if from some inner pain.

He didn't say anything, so I continued.

"Have you noticed how quiet it's been?"

He grunted yes.

"The Ghost Zone is completely empty Vlad, and they took Clockwork."

"That explains the disturbance I have been feeling," Vlad rasped out. "Tell me more about these characters."

"They're human, and they have very expensive and high-tech weapons. They seemed to know Clockwork's one weakness, which only few know about, and attacked it first. They know things Vlad, things that no human should know about."

"You think that one of the ghosts is feeding them information?"

"That or someone is doing a lot of homework. At first I thought it was you, but I couldn't think of a valid reason why you would do such a thing. You know the balance has to be kept between the two worlds as much as I do. You wouldn't disrupt that for anything since you know the importance. Whoever is doing this doesn't know the danger they're putting both worlds through."

Vlad was silent for a moment, thinking on what I had said. He nodded after a while.

"You're right, but I have no knowledge of this. I'll see what I can come up with. Meanwhile, you should keep up your patrols, see what isn't there and report it to me. The more information I have, the more I can find."

That sounded a lot like the original Vlad. I smirked at him and thanked him, then left. I never stayed around for very long and I knew he appreciated my short visits. Now that he had something to do, he wouldn't be staring at the windows anymore, looking for a life he had lost.

* * *

"Danny, are you sure you want to do this?"

Mom readjusted the straps of my backpack for me as I threw away the core of my apple. She had been hovering over me in the kitchen as I ate my breakfast and got ready to go back to school. To be honest, I didn't see why she was so worked up.

"Mom, I'll be fine. If I stay here any longer, I'll fall behind and I want to keep my grades up," I told her, taking my bag out of her fidgety hands.

I knew she was concerned, but there was nothing to be concerned about. I had gone to school after major ghost attacks before with broken bones, multiple scrapes and bruises, heck I even had a concussion one time and I made it through the day without complaint. I felt better after the rest my parents let me have, but I had to get back on schedule before people started poking into my life at school.

"Just be sure to come home if you start to feel odd," Mom said, following me to the door. "At least, odder than normal. Your energy levels are pretty stable, but if you fight anyone, it might set them off again and you get unbalanced again."

"Mom, there's no one around to fight," I reminded her. "You and Dad gather as much information as you can about the Ghost Zone and see if there are any traces of that ship that's been ghost-napping everyone. I have a friend on the trial too, but I want a lot of eyes on the screen. I'll be back right after school to help out."

"Okay dear, you better hurry if you want to catch the bus."

"Who said anything about the bus?" I smiled at her shrewdly over my shoulder.

"You're taking the bus young man," she said more firmly. "Stay grounded until your levels stabilize."

"Yes ma'am. I'll see you when I get home."

I hurried out and onto the sidewalk where the line of kids had already massed around the bus stop. Sam and Tucker had to take a different bus so I would have to ride without them. That was fine, but people were beginning to stare at me oddly and what was worse, it was like I could hear their thoughts, but I did it through their emotions. Many were wondering where I had been for the past week, others saw just same old me having never noticed that I had been absent at all. The workings of the human mind never fascinated me like they did Jazz, and now it was bugging me profusely, like the dripping faucet you can never shut off in the middle of the night.

I sat in a seat by myself in the back and plugged my ears into my I-pod. The music helped to drown out the thoughts and feelings as the long ride began its start. About half an hour later, I was at the steps of Casper High again. I saw Sam and Tucker waiting for me by the steps and I quickly joined them, happy to be around people where their thoughts and feelings were more comfortable for me to probe. I did warn them what was happening and they said it was fine, that they didn't mind having their emotions read. I was happy for that, but all the same, I tried to keep it low.

The moment I stepped into the school, two thugs grabbed me from behind and shoved me towards the offices. I heard Sam and Tucker trying to get to me, but another guy must have cut them off because their voices were getting farther and farther away. Their emotions were troubled; they were worried for me, scared that something was going to happen. The men grabbing me wondered why I was such a threat, but they were being paid and that was all that mattered, but they must have had fair warning because they were pushing me down the hall pretty fast to get rid of me in a hurry. I caught sight of Dash as I was being dragged down the hall and I caught a thread of his thoughts—confusion and determination why they were taking me down to the principle's office. He had heard some bad rumors, but he didn't believe in them. They just weren't justified, but he was beginning to wonder.

_Dash, don't follow, _I thought and to my great surprise, he halted in the hall way as if a wall was blocking him. _Don't get messed up in this too. _

I don't know if he heard me or not, but he moved out of the way as we thumped by. I could feel his eyes on my back for a long second before it left me. He must have turned around and left.

After almost tripping over feet and pushing students out of the way and into lockers to make rooms for themselves, the thugs dropped me off at the office and plopped my sorry rear into a cold plastic chair. I glanced up at them but didn't say a word, I knew words weren't going to get me out of this one—whatever 'this one' was.

The door to Ishiama's office opened up and she motioned for the thugs to carry me inside. They reached for me but I got up fast and stomped in myself. I hated being man-handled.

Ishiama stared at me like she would any other troublemaking student. She was behind her desk, in her normal business suit, and stared at me as if searching for some great mystery to try and unravel. Behind her is what made my heart drop into the floor. Lancer was there, arms crossed over his paunchy middle and staring me down as if I was some mad animal that had to be put down. I had forgotten all about him, and I knew I was in trouble.

"Do you know why you're here Mr. Fenton?" Ishiama spoke clearly, but as if to a commoner that knew no speech.

"I have a pretty good idea," I stood up straight and looked at Lancer. "Do you believe him?"

"I believe him when he says you're a threat to the student body, maybe even the town."

I stared at her for a moment, then snorted through my nose and rolled my eyes.

"Of course you would say that," I dropped my arms and balled my fists in my anger, also ready to spring if there was a trap.

Ishiama was feeling indifferent about me, but wanted to stop me at all costs. Lancer was feeling pretty happy with himself at the moment, and I really wanted to wash the thought out of his head. I took stock of the room and saw that escape through the windows was plausible if I wanted to break the glass. The vent was a no since it was over Lancer's head, and the doors were guarded by the two thugs. The windows were my only option if I had to leave in a hurry.

Then my situation got worse. I heard guns whining outside, ecto-weapons. My instinct to spring away was powerful, but I wanted to remain as human as possible before the still uncertain person of my demise.

"Mr. Fenton," Ishiama spoke, "due to Mr. Lancer's concerns, we are hereby expelling you from this institution, indefinitely."

"Expulsion?" I said incredulously. "That's a little strong for a rumor don't you think?"

"Lancer has the scars to prove it no rumor. Your expulsion began last week when I found out, but obviously you didn't get the phone message."

"Phones have been disconnected," I said, keeping my ear on the door behind me.

"Also, because you are public enemy around here, it is our duty to turn you in to the authorities."

The door opened behind me and a gun was placed at the base of my neck.

"Freeze, you have the right to remain silent—"

Guy didn't get very far. I reached around to grab the gun barrel and kick the man in the stomach at the same time. The man flew through the doorway and into the hall where he stopped when his head hit the water fountain with a sickly crack. I had the gun in my hand and I brought it around to look at it. It was a standard police weapon, nothing special to harm my body. I could take bullets and spit them back out later with no harm done. Ishiama and Lancer instantly became afraid with me and a weapon in my hands. To comfort the jerks, I dismantled the gun quickly and threw the parts around the office so it couldn't be put back together quickly.

"I'd call an ambulance," I said as I walked out. "He hit his head pretty badly."

* * *

I had walked out of the building quickly and made it to the park. Hiding in the trees was easy for me, even without invisibility. The thought didn't give me much comfort though since my life was totally screwed. I had assaulted a police officer, there were witnesses to the account which means my rear was in the frying pan with the law. I was too young to go to jail, but I was sure Ishiama and Lancer would concoct a story to blow the whole thing out of proportion and get me some time in a juvenile detention center.

My mom was going to have a fit and Dad—I wasn't sure what Dad would do, but it wouldn't be pretty.

"Never took you as one to give up Fenton."

Dash, I knew he was there, but I had hoped he would go away.

"I'm not giving up," I told him, "I'm regrouping."

Dash amazingly climbed the thin tree with ease and came up to my eyelevel, standing on the branch beneath the one I laid on.

"Didn't know you could read minds," Dash said rather casually—either he was in shock or his suspicions had been confirmed.

"Not read, more like feel," I corrected him. "And it's new. Still getting use to it."

"Is that why you haven't been back for a week?"

"Part of it," I finally turned my head to look at him in the eye. "Why do you care all of a sudden?"

Dash used his upper body strength to pull himself up on my branch and sit on it. I swung my legs over the edge to mimic him and to give him more room so he would have less chance of falling off the very edge of the limb.

"You helped my sister," he said matter-of-factly. "I owe you."

I understood what he meant. If someone had saved Jazz from a terrible fate, I would be indebted too. Even if the guy said no, I would insist and not back down from repaying him. I had a feeling from Dash that he would do the same—no, I knew since I could feel it in his thoughts. He was determined to help me.

"You can't help me with much Dash," I told him, shaking my head. "Today wasn't much compared to what I have to face soon enough."

"You do a lot," Dash frowned. "You got to get help from somewhere."

"Tuck and Sam help, Jazz does too when she can. However, some things they can't do—some things I got to do on my own."

Dash could sympathize with me, he knew what I was talking about. He had been in enough situations when he had to pull himself through. His thoughts weren't happy with that fact, but he knew the world wasn't fair.

"You can say that again," I muttered.

"I didn't say anything."

"Uh, right, sorry."

"Anyway, bad things aside, need a place to crash for a while?"

"I'll go home soon enough. My parents are going to be worried sick when they hear about this."

"The whole town will know. When I snuck out of school, T.V. cameras were setting up in the front of the building. Ishiama looked pissed man."

"It's a special talent I have," I smirked at him. "But the news crews are going to be a bother. All the more reason to get my friend out of trouble."

Dash looked confused—and his thoughts were confused—but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to push me and in doing so, shut me down. He was curious, but he wouldn't beat the answers out of me.

"I got to get going, can't stay in one place for too long."

I jumped off the branch with ease and landed on my feet silently. Dash pushed himself off and landed on his rear, but he wasn't hurt. After he picked himself up, we started walking through the park and made it to the front gates.

"I ought to get home too," Dash said. "My parents are going to bust a gasket when they see the news tonight."

"Yeah, the whole town will. Then they're all going to be on my front doorstep."

"If you need crowd control, call me."

"I can handle crowds, it will be the fan-girls that will be trouble."

Dash winced but he smiled at the same time, finding great amusement in my circumstances. Then an image popped up in his head, one of Paulina hiding herself in my shower and me not knowing until—

"Dude! Keep your thoughts G rated please," I said, shutting him out on instinct.

"Sorry," Dash chuckled.

A shiver ran down my spine un-expectantly. I threw my eyes up to the sky on instinct and Dash followed my line of sight. I watched in wonder as something blue streaked across the sky with something white following after it. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized a miniature of the ship that captured Clockwork.

"Follow that ship!" I yelled, running after them on the ground.

Dash kept pace with me as we rounded corners and J walked, always keeping our eyes on the sky. Eventually, the blue streak crash landed in the old train station and the persistent ship circled like a vulture, looking for a spot to land. Dash and I just caught up with the blue thing when the ship began a slow decent.

We ran up to the figure that crashed and I was shocked to see I knew the person. Dash gasped when he saw who it was, because he knew her too.

"Ember," I said, getting down on my knees to inspect her.

She hadn't been beaten, she had been tortured. There were cuts all over her body, horrible scars from where they had dissected and cut her open. She was cold—well, the bad kind of cold for a ghost—and beyond tired. She looked like she had been through a war, and she was the only one fighting for her side. Her hair was out, the grey clothes she wore now were torn and burned in several places, barely staying on her.

"Is she okay?" Dash asked, getting down next to me.

I was about to say that was a stupid question, but I sensed that the ship landed and the people on board weren't friendly.

"Get her up," I whispered quickly. "They're coming."

Dash helped me right Ember up and we dragged her into the old station building, hoping that would help us hide her for a minute. Good thing she was unconscious, otherwise she might have been throwing a hissy fit and exposing us all.

We laid Ember back down and I made my way over to the broken window that looked out to the area where Ember crashed. Dash joined me, not needing me to explain why we weren't running for our lives.

The crew showed up soon enough. They had ecto-guns, big ones and newer models I had never seen before. One of them had ghost-detecting gear that was also very high tech, but what surprised me, was the pristine white suits and counteracting black sunglasses perched in straight noses that rested on hard bald-headed faces.

"The Guys in White?" Dash whispered incredulously. "Where did they get that tech?"

I was wondering the same thing as they covered the crash sight, looking for Ember. A crazy thought entered my mind just then—if I could feel minds, what else could I do? I was thinking about the possibilities when the guy with the ghost detector suddenly turned towards out hiding spot. Time to put theory to the test.

Instinctively, I entered his mind like a fish swimming through water at high speed. I found what I was looking for and clamped onto his subconscious, he jerked a little, but the others didn't notice it.

"There's nothing here," I whispered under my breath.

"There's nothing here," the guy said as he addressed the other agents. "She must have gone."

They took his word—or rather my word—and soon they left, not having a clue that their prey was right under their noses.

"That's new," Dash said, looking at me nervously.

"Get home Dash, get home as fast as you can and stay there."

"What are you going to do with her?" Dash nodded his head over to Ember.

"I can take her to a safe house, just until she regains consciousness. I need to know what she knows."

"Be safe man."

"You too."

Dash got up and left, not looking back. He knew I could take care of myself. I changed into Phantom and picked Ember up. She was so sickeningly light that I almost felt ready to break down and cry for her. I had always feared this happening to me, I never thought that I would happen to someone like Ember, and if what I was thinking was right, the whole Ghost Zone was going through this torture. No one there was my enemy now. I always saved the humans from the ghosts—now I had to save the ghosts from the humans.

It was too dangerous to bring Ember to my house. Even though I wish Mom and Dad could look at her, with the news blasting my secret all over the screens of the town, I had to keep her somewhere else.

* * *

Vlad was not too happy when I came by and said I was leaving Ember with him. I told him not to argue, that she was too weak to do anything when she woke up.

"Call me when she comes too," I said firmly. "I can't have her at my house after that disaster this morning."

"Ah yes, that," Vlad scowled and rolled his eyes. "Is there something else I should know about?"

"Yes, the GiW did this," I pointed to Ember's prostrate form on the couch. "They have new weaponry, stuff I have never seen."

"I'll get my bugs right on it," Vlad said. "And I will call. You better get home though, they're broadcasting the news as we speak."

I nodded and flew straight for home. What met my eyes was an angry mob on one side of the stoop and a fan club on the other, Paulina screaming her lungs off like normal. In the middle were the cameras and news casts, all waiting for me to be there and try to defend myself. Mom and Dad were on the stoop, trying to get everyone to go away.

"You're on Fenton property!" Dad yelled. "I have a right to call the cops!"

"Jack, the police are after Danny remember?" Mom said just as I landed in front of them.

The whole crowd turned silent since I landed in a split second in front of my house. I rose slowly from my crouch, a little dramatic I admit, but I wasn't in the mood to laugh. I scowled and looked over the whole crowd. Their mouths dropped open, eyes wide. Their thoughts were incoherent, impossibility running through their minds like angry wasps.

"Leave now," I told them, voice low and commanding, "because you aren't going to get anything from me."

I turned, my parents shocked as well, but I helped them back into the house. I slammed the door on the people outside and waited for the yelling to start, but there was only silence. Eventually, I heard vehicles leaving and footsteps retreating in every direction away from the house.

"We got more problems," I muttered, changing back to Fenton. "The GiW are behind the ghost disappearances. They've been experimenting on them."

"How do you know?" Dad asked.

"One escaped, she's at a friend's right now, but I need to bring her here to have you guys help her."

"Yes, we'll do that," Mom said, grabbing the first aid kit from the closet. "But I want to look at you first."

"I wasn't in a fight Mom," I told her, dodging the hydroxide-soaked cotton-ball. "But she was beat up pretty bad. She looks like Frankenstein, only the monster looks better."

"You need to call Sam and Tucker," Dad said. "They left a few messages."

I whipped my phone out and started to dial Sam's number first. A thousand things were running through my mind, above all, was the worry at what Ember say when she finally woke up.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Yes this can be considered short, but the next one will be very long. Enjoy! _**

* * *

I woke up sweating to yet another dream. They had been growing worse lately, as if the longer I waited to fix this mess, the more permanent the damage would be. They had been worse ever since Clockwork was taken, which meant something was falling apart at the seams within the time stream, or perhaps something larger than that.

"Danny?"

I looked up at see Dad looking down on me with concern. He must have woken me up.

"Sorry," I said, sighing and putting a hand to my head.

"Do you have bad dreams a lot?" Dad asked, looking guilty.

"It has nothing to do with you, Dad," I reassured him. "My dreams are warnings, for me."

"Warnings?" Dad seemed perplexed now.

"I'm connected to something of great power," I tried to explain. "I don't exactly know what it is or even if it exists, but I feel it deep down you know? Whenever I need a last ditch effort, this power comes from nowhere and helps me win. Dad, it's grown stronger over the years and I think it's trying to communicate with me now."

"How can a power communicate if it's just a source of energy?" Dad shook his head.

"If it's aware of its surroundings and tried to adapt, that's one of the criteria of life right? If this power were some sort of living being, then it could communicate, but it wouldn't know how since it would have to learn first."

I thought about what I said—what the old woman said in the back of her van. About the Source and how I was suppose to find it. Was I really connected to this Source all long without know it? Was it the Source giving me my power when I needed it the most?

"Well, since you're up, why don't you come downstairs?" Dad said, getting up and heading for the door.

"It's three in the morning," I said, glancing at my clock. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Your mother and I aren't really ready to sleep yet Danny. We've got problems and we could use your help."

I got up and followed him downstairs. Mom was at the kitchen table, rummaging around many parts and wires as if trying to find something that had been dumped on the tabletop. I watched her, analyzing how she collected some pieces and threw others out, as if she was trying to build a weapon without blueprints.

"What are you doing?" I asked getting her attention.

"Oh, hi sweety," she smiled brightly then turned back to the table. "I'm just trying to find some key components to fix the ghost shield with."

"Why?"

"So you can pass through it without getting hurt," she said as if it was obvious. "We calibrated all of the weapons to ignore you so it would make sense to help you out with the ghost shield."

"Well, not getting shocked would be nice," I smiled ruefully.

Suddenly, my head snapped around and looked at the front door. My parents looked up at me then the door warily. My senses had picked up a great amount of hatred, of deadly purpose. I felt the emotions and I could more or less feel the thoughts of the men coming down the street and heading straight for our home.

Fir the first time in a long time, it scared me. I saw what these guys did to Clockwork, the Ghost Zone, and Ember. Now that I saw their thoughts, I was petrified at what they had in store for little ol' me. I must have been truly frightened because Mom gasped behind me and asked where I had gone. My invisibility kicked in because of my fright; I wanted to hide from the source that wanted to harm me.

The door was pounded on, almost being knocked off its hinges. Mom and Dad seemed unsure of what to do, but they knew it was bad news since I had disappeared like that.

"Danny," Mom spoke up, grabbing a gun from the cabinets, "get down into the lab and hide. Your father and I will take care of this."

I did as she said, slowly making my way down the stairs and locking the door behind me when I closed it. This bit of concealment eased my nerves and I turned visible again, but now I was frightened for my parents. I stayed close to the door, picturing the whole thing in my mind and how it played out.

The GIW approached my parents, seeing the guns in hand and were wondering if it was such a good idea to barge in. My parents stared the agents down coldly, Mom especially since it looked like she was ready to kick some major government butt.

I gasped as I realized that I could see everything that was going on, but not through some sort of astral projection, through my mom. I was seeing everything through her eyes, I was inside her head. I wondered why I was in Mom's head instead of Dad's, but the way she handled the gun and held herself made me realize why—she made me feel safer then my Dad.

I loved the big guy and all, but he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn even if he tried to do so.

"What do you want?" Mom spoke up, but she knew what they wanted already.

"We're here to arrest the ghost known as Phantom," the GIW said, showing Mom his badge. "We know you've been keeping him here, and if it weren't for circumstantial evidence, we would be arresting you too."

Mom only scowled.

"I'm afraid he's not here," Mom lied evenly. "He's at a friend's house tonight."

The agents looked at each other, unsure about what to do. Their orders had been to capture Phantom, but arresting the Fentons wouldn't be stepping out of protocol. They had been a thorn in their side for a long time, so they would be doing everybody a favor anyway.

"Be careful guys," I whispered, worried even more for their safety that it began to clump in my stomach—I wondered if I would get an ulcer from this.

"I'm afraid it's orders to catch him Mrs. Fenton," the lead agent said. "He's been impersonating your son for a long time and we would think you would want your son found."

So _that's _what everybody thought.

"That is my son," Dad spoke up, walking forward and poking the main guy in the chest. "He's an ethereal being, not some impersonator."

"So, he's a zombie?" one of the muscle agents spoke up stupidly.

"No, he's a ghost bound by human needs," Mom spoke up. "He's trapped in his own body."

"This is new information," I grumbled, seeing through Mom's eyes at the agents seemed unsure on what to do.

I also knew that Mom wasn't lying.

"We're suppose to capture a ghost," the second in command whispered to his leader. "If it's a human, we can't interfere."

The leader ground his teeth until it looked like they were flaking apart. He was really angry, livid actually. He knew that if was I was anything like a human, then they couldn't touch me. This got me thinking—and it might have been a stupid idea—but they might have left had I now gone out there and taken a soda from the fridge.

"Hey," I spoke up calmly, as if greeting an old friend.

The GIW pointed their guns at me within a blink of an eye, but when they saw that I was drinking the soda, they stopped and gaped. I sighed heavily—again they looked confused since I actually breathed—and looked at them in the eye.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked innocently. "I hope it's not to take me away."

The leader shook his hands in rage at me, "We'll get you, one way or another."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"We'll be sending an evaluator to your house," he said as his party moved out of the room. "She'll decide whether Phantom is human or not."

Then he left too, slamming the door heavily and almost breaking it in half.

* * *

"That was close," I sank to the floor, unable to keep standing on my weak legs.

"I know," Mom sighed, letting the gun drop to her side. "Why did you come back out?"

"They were going to take you if I didn't do something," I said, looking up at her.

Some sort of emotion crossed her face, but I couldn't put my finger on just what it was. Surprise, understanding, fear—all sorts of things that didn't make sense to me. She knelt down next to me and took my face in her hands.

"That's it," she whispered.

"What's it?" Dad asked, looking very confused himself.

"Danny's obsession, what keeps him here," Mom clarified. "It's us."

"Huh?" Dad still didn't get it, but I knew where she was going.

"Danny protects the town because he feels responsible for us," Mom continued. "He thinks he has to protect us, to defend us, anyone he loves or feels responsible for. He can't help but be the hero."

Dad's eyes got round and he looked at Mom as if he could communicate with her telepathically. Mom looked up at him and she had the same look—the look that said we know what's going on and we don't want to tell Danny because we're afraid he may do something.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling scared now with the silence in the room—and the tenseness of the day wasn't helping my nerves any.

"We may know why you do this," Dad said, looking down at me as if he was sorry. "And I think you do to."

I was puzzled, not knowing why he was looking at me like that, but one look into his eyes and I saw the person in his thoughts.

"Devon," I said, looking at him still.

Mom was startled that I said that name, but she looked just as guilty as Dad.

"You're not the only one keeping secrets Danny," Mom said, looking close to tears.

"I know," I said switching my eyes to her. "Why, why did you take my brother away?"

The story hadn't been easy to take. My parents had dragged me into the kitchen and sat me down to make sure I would listen. They had expected me to understand, to feel sympathy for them, and on some degree I did, but it didn't warrant them taking my brother away. I was so upset that all of the lights in the house exploded and I flew out of there in a fury. I decided to fly back to Vlad's after I floated around town for a while, I had to see how Ember was doing.

All the while, I couldn't get the memories of my parents out of my mind, of my brother that they had abandoned just because he was difficult and different.

* * *

Devon was my twin, the brother I had shared everything with apparently. My parents said we were practically inseparable, but Devon had a problem. He had something called Asburguers, it's sort of like Autism but much more mellow, but it also came with its own problems. Devon had trouble relating to kids, never knowing what they were doing. He couldn't make the right emotions come out and he almost refused to look people in the eye. He didn't like people, they didn't like him because he was different. He preferred to play on his own, he loved building things. I actually remember that about him—I had always wondered why we had so many building blocks in the garage.

His heart was also very weak and his tantrums always got someone injured, whether it be a kid or an adult. The only person he trusted was me, and I was perfectly normal at the time. I protected him from people who wanted to hurt him. I tried to keep him out of trouble, and if he did, I would take the blame. I didn't want to see my brother get hurt just because he didn't know what he was doing. My parents saw it too.

We hadn't even been in preschool for a week before something happened. Devon was doing something and I wasn't keeping an eye on him. I had been playing with my new friend—who I would know as Tucker for many years. Devon had wondered outside and he somehow got into the middle of the street. Of course cars were in the area and they swerved to miss him. One person died that day because he had swerved to miss Devon and hit a tree instead. His neck broke at the speed he was going when he hit the trunk. Others were injured and I remember running into that street to stop Devon from going any further.

Our teacher was yelling both of our names, but Devon wasn't listening to her—couldn't listen—and I ignored her completely. When I caught up to Devon, I found him crying. He had wondered where I was and tried to find me, unaware of the destruction around him. I had promised to always be by him, to never leave his side. I couldn't keep that promise.

We were taken home right away that afternoon. Mom and Dad sat me down and had a long talk, trying to figure out what had happened. They had never asked Devon because they knew he wouldn't say anything to them that made any sense. I'm not sure what happened next, but the next day, people showed up to take Devon away.

My brother and I had been playing in the front room—with his blocks—when they came in and grabbed him. We screamed, I was fighting to get him out of their grasp and Devon was fighting too, fighting like a mad man to get them to let him go. Apparently it had been bad enough to where Dad had to hold onto me and bring me into a different room. It didn't help; I still heard Devon's cries and screams as they took him down to the car. I felt like half of me was gone, my promise was broken, and my brother was gone. That's a lot to take as a four year old. I cried for a long time, wanting my brother back, shouting his name as if it would bring him back to me, but it never did. After I realized that he would never come back, I sort of sunk and didn't talk to people. Mom and Dad were worried about me and the whole ordeal, but Tucker and Sam came into my life and—I had forgotten. I don't know how I forgot but I did. After that, my parents figured I would never remember and left it in the attic, never to be brought up again.

* * *

At Vlad's, I was still thinking about it, sulking in the corner of the library while Vlad looked out his large windows again. Ember was still out, laying on the couch not far from us.

"Why would they do that Vlad?" I asked out loud.

I had felt comfortable telling the old man what I had just learned, I knew he could relate on some level with misery.

"It takes a lot of money and time to take care of a needy child Daniel," Vlad said after a moment. "Neither your parents have in abundance. Having a child like Devon would be very stressful as well. Perhaps they couldn't take care of him any longer and felt it would be better for everyone if Devon was sent to a special facility."

"But never visiting him, never talking about him as if he had never existed? I don't get it."

"Perhaps they just wanted to forget," Vlad said quietly.

I looked at him, but I couldn't see his face. I wasn't sure about my own face at the moment. I felt so mixed up inside that I felt sick. That churning in my stomach was about to make me throw up, so I was glad when Ember finally stirred on the couch as a distraction.

I got up and went to her. Her aura was very dim, meaning she was weak, but as long as it was there, it meant she was alive.

"Ember, can you hear me?" I asked.

Ember opened her dull green eyes and focused on me. I didn't know what to expect, anger at least, but I saw nothing on her face, nothing at all.

"Ember it's me," I said getting closer to her face. "I'm Phantom—you call me dib-stick all of the time. Don't you remember?"

Ember's eyes flashed in remembrance and she nodded slowly. She looked around the room and slowly sat up, but it looked painful for her so I helped to steady her back. She didn't fight, I don't think she could have in her state. Fearfully, Ember brought one of her hands to her face and seemed to freeze at what she saw. I looked down with her and the churning in my stomach came back, but it was more of disgust more than confusion.

They had mutilated her hands, cutting them open over and over so much that the nerves were completely useless. Her fingers were missing too; she only had a thumb and a pinky left, and on different hands. I took her hand in mine, wondering if she was in any pain.

"Do you know who did this to you?" I asked, and she nodded again. "Who, tell me exactly."

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, looking ready to cry. She opened her mouth, but didn't utter a sound, and I felt a great sadness and fear in her.

"Are you scared to tell me?" I asked, groping for answers here.

She shook her head and pointed to her throat. I saw scars there too.

"No," it dawned on me, "no, they didn't."

Ember nodded slowly, glistening tears pouring down her face.

"They ripped your throat out so you couldn't escape," I whispered horrified. "They took your power away."

Ember's shoulders shook silently and a great pang in my heart grew. They ripped her vocal chords out so she couldn't hypnotize people and they ruined her hands so she couldn't play her one weapon, her guitar. They made her completely powerless and at their control.

"Are they doing this to the others?" I asked, scared of the answer.

Ember nodded, fearful. Somewhere in the house, the fuse box blew with my silent fury, sending the house into darkness, not that we three needed light to see.

"Ember, I need to look into your thoughts, see what they're doing," I said, putting my finger tips on her temples. "You won't feel a thing, I promise."

Ember trusted me, I could see it in her eyes and I knew that I would get her revenge for this madness—her and every other ghost that the GIW tortured.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, feeling my way through my hands and into Ember's mind. She must have known how to help me because her memories were the first thing I came too. I watched in horror as images flashed between a cramped cell, to an examination table, to horrible field training with new weapons. I saw all sorts of old enemies and many friends as well, but I didn't see Clockwork anywhere.

Then I saw her, I saw Dani, strapped to a table and looking haggard and beaten. They had made Ember and a whole bunch of other ghosts watch as they tortured my clone, making her dissolve into nothing in the end.

I pulled back in shock, not realized that tears were on my face until I came back to my senses.

"Dani, no," I whimpered. "Did she… she had to of…"

Ember shook her head slowly, biting her lower lip. Dani hadn't survived her torture, she had died at the hands of humans.

"No," I cried into my hands, "No Dani, not her. Not my sister."

I whimpered in the corner for a while, all of the events of the day meshing into one bit mess in my heart.

My secret had been uncovered, the GIW wanted to take me to that horrible place, my parents had sent my brother away, and now I discovered that the clone I considered a sister was dead. It was all too much.

I growled viciously, like I had back in the school when the jocks had wanted me to take the fall for their drug usage, and slammed my fists into the ground. The wooden floor creaked and broke under my strength, splitting the wood all of the way up to the windows where the glass shattered and rained down on Vlad, but he was unharmed. He had his back turned to them, facing me and watching what I was doing. Ember was staring at me fearfully, unsure of what to think of now.

"Daniel," Vlad spoke quietly as I crouched there and panted out the rest of my emotions, "why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

"How can I sleep after this?" I asked, that growl right behind my voice.

"I know it will be difficult, but I think it best. You need your family now, and your friends. Plus that evaluator will be at your home soon to see you. You need to be ready for your answers and her assault of questions."

* * *

I didn't know what else to do, I was so lost and I didn't want to think. I took his advice and left, heading home at a slow pace, not caring if people below were pointing at me as I passed by. I just saw Dani's death as if I had been there myself, I couldn't take it much longer.

At home, my parents were in the living room, waiting for me, as I came in the door. They got up at once when they saw my face, of course I had been crying half of the flight home. I sat there, with my back to the door and just cried the whole night, Mom and Dad were there, holding me and uncertain about what to do, but their feel—their presence was enough for my battered heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Okay, a fight next chapter-promise! _**

**_

* * *

_**

I woke up screaming, my heart pounding painfully in my chest and sweat pouring down my skin uncomfortably as it made my clothes cling to me as if I had taken a dip in the lake. I hated nightmares, especially the ones that seemed so real that they put an unexplainable fear in your head. I whimpered quietly as I stared at the couch covers, raising the upper half of my body and letting the lower half hang limply halfway off of the couch.

"Danny?"

Mom was there, feeling my forehead and wondering what was wrong with me. She was wondering if I was having a relapse, but the pain she saw on my face said it was emotional not physical. I must have looked bad because she didn't know what to say.

"This takes a lot out of you doesn't it?" she asked quietly.

I didn't answer. My arms became too weak to hold me up and they buckled, planting my face on the pillow that my head had been on a moment ago. Mom turned me over quickly, concerned for my energy levels, and my sanity I'm sure.

"Danny, I'm so worried about you. When you came home last night—" she didn't finish her sentence.

She grabbed a cloth from somewhere and put it on my face. It felt cold and nice there, but I moved it and threw it away somewhere on the floor. Mom watched it, shocked at my action, and I turned back to put my face into the pillow. It may take a while, but I was sure I could suffocate to death.

Mom turned me back over to my side and frowned at me.

"Danny, what's wrong with you?"

That was a good question, but a better one would be—what's _not _wrong with me? It felt like all of the world's troubles were on my shoulders and I alone had to fix them. It was too much weight to bear anymore, not after all of this death and secret-revealing. I felt so low that I thought I could sink through the core of the earth without caring. I didn't have the energy or the will to talk, move, or even eat—which I had been doing in abundance lately. Nothing seemed worth doing anymore.

"Mom, let me talk to him."

I lifted my head in surprise to see Jazz there, hovering over my mother and placing a hand on her shoulder in comfort. Jazz was scared to see me like this, but she was also very determined to help me fix whatever was wrong with my head. I didn't need mind-reading powers to figure that out—her eyes practically glowed with it.

Before I could see the outcome, I put my face back into the pillow and sighed heavily, ready to hear my sister rant at me like I was a baby again, just like she did three years ago when she first learned of my secret life.

Mom must have left the room because Jazz was still there, I could feel her determination pushing into me as if she knew I could tell what she was feeling and trying to make me soak up some of it. I envisioned a steel wall around my head to block her out, but it was still there, knocking incessantly and causing the start of a migraine.

"I know you're scared," Jazz said, still on the side of the couch. "I saw the news and I nearly fainted, but Danny, you should know that you have a lot more support out there then you realize."

When she got no response out of me, she tried a different tactic, one that hit a little closer to home.

"You were pretty hysterical when I got here last night," she whispered, putting a hand on my head. "I know you don't remember, but I need to know—what had you in that state? You scared the crap out of everyone last night."

I managed to move my face to the side and look at Jazz out of the corner of my eye. She was really blurry to my vision, but I could tell it was still Jazz. For a second, I had a flash back of when she had tried to help me ghost hunt—about how she had sucked me into the thermos three times in the same night, how she tricked Vlad into thinking she was on his side, how we beat him in that huge arena—how awesome a team we made, even if Jazz had lousy aim.

"I lost someone," I whispered hoarsely.

"Who, a friend?" Jazz asked quietly.

"A sister . . ."

I began to tell her of how Vlad had cloned me, about Dani and how she had saved me from Vlad when he had been ready to dissect me for that last critical piece he needed for his perfect clone. Then I told her about when Dani came back, how Valerie helped us out and rescued her. I told her about the connection I had with the little girl, how close she felt to me. When Jazz wasn't there, Dani would come to mind and it was as if I could feel her, and she would tell me something stupid and make me laugh. Challenge me to a race across town and how I won and her being a sore loser. Dani actually showed up a lot in Amity Park after Vlad had tried to melt her. After she heard about the shooting that left Vlad in a chair, she came back more frequently and those were some of the best days of my life. I spent them with someone who understood me, who went through the same things I went through—a sister in every sense of the word—kindred spirits.

Now she was gone—and I felt so lost and alone. I felt guilty for not stopping this, for not feeling that something was wrong earlier. I was sad, knowing I would never see her again. I was enraged, ready to storm into the GiW headquarters and bust them open all by myself. I felt so much of my fury that I feared I would blow apart from all of the energy building up in my heart.

"Danny? Danny, are you okay?"

Jazz shook my shoulder lightly to bring me out of my stupor, and once again, I was depressed and wanted to be left alone. Jazz wouldn't let me though and I knew it.

"Danny, please say something. This is terrible and I can only imagine what it must feel like. I would be devastated if I lost you, but it's not healthy to lay here and grieve. You need to get up and moving. I know you're angry, why not bust some heads to help with that?"

One of my eye brows shot up at Jazz's suggestion. She had never been one to suggest violence as an outlet so it surprised me that she would suggest it to someone, especially me who almost blew up the house a week ago.

At my confused look, Jazz smiled and got up walking over to the kitchen. I lifted my body to watch her go straight through the kitchen and walk down to the lab, pausing to look over her shoulder at me to see if I would follow. My curiosity was perked when I felt excitement roll off of her and my parents who were down in the lab . . . doing something as usual, and I had a funny feeling it had to do with me.

I got up, walking over to the lab door warily and peered into the semi-darkness. I saw no strange contraptions to capture me, nothing that looked ready to tear me apart atom by atom, and no parents or sister. Freaked that a ghost might have gotten to them, I cleared the stair case in a single jump and transformed into Phantom on the way down. I landed lightly and scanned the lab with a trained eye, noticing that the portal was closed up tightly. I paused and brought myself up and scratched my head in wonderment as to where my family could have gone. There was nowhere else to go to get out of the basement except the way through the kitchen.

I heard the whining of the gears and the thump of feet first. I geared up my energy into my palm and turned around, shooting as soon as I saw the flash of silver approach. A second of silence passed before I realized I had just shot a robot. There was a gaping hole in its middle from where I had blasted it, but it still stood upright.

"Whoa, maybe I should have recalibrated the reaction time."

I turned to see my family behind a blast-proof wall just behind the stairs. They had come out and were staring wide-eyed at me.

"Uh, I got spooked," I said lamely, hearing the crackling of the severed wires behind me on the contraption.

"This is only proof that you're a walking stress mess," Jazz said pointedly, walking over to me. "You need to relax and forget all of this ghost business for at least a few hours."

"I can't," I argued with her, wondering why I felt so much better after I blasted that bucket of bolts. "I have a human evaluator to go through in a few hours. If I don't pass, it's good bye Amity Park and hello painful experiments. Not to mention that _all_ of my ghost enemies are trapped there as well, so I'll be dead within the first thirty seconds if I'm taken to their headquarters."

"I think Jazz is right Danny," Mom spoke up, handing some du-dad to my father. "You're very stressed and it isn't helping your powers at all. With the building of stress is the building of your energy. If you continue to do this, you'll burn yourself out sooner or later. It's hurting you baby."

"I can handle it," I told Mom, feeling like I really had to hit something. "Just let me think."

"No, Danny, you've done enough thinking—"

I yelled, my fist pulled back but I turned around swiftly to place my fury on the robot that I knew wasn't going to fight back. The head came clean off, the smell of melting wires and metal filled the lab seconds after I clocked the thing. It slowly sank to its knees then fell over onto its back, the head imbedded into the wall in front of me, still smoking from my supernaturally powered punch.

"Stop telling me what to do," I growled, feeling that monster again, but I wasn't as afraid of it now as I had been when it smashed that jock into the lockers.

I could tell this was my potential, my full ghost coming into power. I felt in control right now, but who was to say that would last? It seemed to build with my anger; if I got any madder right now, I wasn't sure if I could stop myself from hurting my family. I sank slowly to the floor, my head bowed with my thought of hurting my parents or my sister. I had promised years ago that I would never let this happen, but what if it was inevitable? What if I was destined to be evil instead of good?

"Girls, let me handle this," Dad said behind me.

Why did I have the feeling that I was being tossed around like a barrowed lawn mower? And would I ever get back to my original owner? And what exactly did that mean to me? Did that mean I was finally going insane and that I would turn into a fully fledged killer? I so needed to talk with Clockwork right now.

I heard footsteps receding and the opening and closing of the lab door. Silence, all the while I could feel Dad's eyes on me. He finally walked over and sat down beside me, looking at the robot with a sad expression on his face.

"I built that to be a challenge for you," he said, sounding mad at himself. "I guess I underestimated you."

I don't know why, but that made me laugh. It was hollow and soft, but it was a laugh and I could feel my lips curling upwards in a small smile.

"Sorry," I said, crossing my legs on the floor.

"It's alright, I've got more prototypes in the corner," he said happily, pointing his thumb in that general direction. "Want to help me?"

I looked up into his eyes and I could see that childish glint that always came to his face when he was on the verge of a breakthrough, and that's normally when stuff blew up around him. I smiled back at him, by own eyes glinting in challenge—and I just really wanted to see something blow up right now.

* * *

**BOOOOOOOM!**

"Jack! Danny!"

Mom opened the lab door and black smoke billowed up to meet her in the face. I heard her and Jazz choke on the smoke and then the hissing of the fire extinguisher as my mom and sister made it down to the lab.

I slowly got myself off of my back, my face feeling stiff and dirty from having that last bot blow up in my face. Just to my left, I heard Dad shift around in the debris we were sitting in like idiots and sit up as well. We turned to look at each other, his face completely black with soot and hair thrown back as if he had stuck his head out of an airplane—I'm sure I looked similar to him.

"What were you two doing?" Mom asked angrily, her foot tapping and hands on her hips as we turned our faces to look at her.

"Of all the irresponsible things you have done Dad, this crosses the line," Jazz glared at him, and then turned to me. "And you Danny, I thought you knew better?"

I barely caught any of that since my ear drums were blown to bits. My super hearing kind of came in handy, but it was still a whole lot of_ blah-blah-blah_ to my ears. Dad wasn't as fortunate as me.

"What!" he yelled, putting a hand up to his ear to hear better. "Speak up! I can't hear you over the ringing!"

"What were you doing!" Jazz yelled into his face.

"Oh! Well, um, Danny what were we doing?" Dad turned to me, unsure on what to say.

So I put it in simpleton terms: "We were having fun!"

Mom shook her head and Jazz rolled her eyes as Dad laughed.

"Boys," she grumbled, turning around to go back up the stairs.

Mom looked at us for a second before following Jazz up the stairs. I turned to smile back at Dad and he looked like a little kid again.

"Let's do that again!" he yelled at me, unaware that I was already healing from the blast, though I nodded just as eager anyway.

I helped Dad get to his feet, but I must have done something wrong because I heard his back pop rather loudly and then a frustrated groan from him.

"Oh, my back," he wheezed. "I think we need to put this on hold Danny-boy."

"Yeah, I think so too. I need to shower before that evaluator comes over," I said, helping him over to the stairs.

* * *

After I put him in his chair, I ran up the stairs to get all of the soot out of my hair and put on something decent for that stupid interview that I had to do. Who had to prove their humanity anyway? I felt downright insulted that I had to prove that I was good—but wasn't I just contemplating my sanity a few hours ago in the lab before my father and I managed to blow it up? I sighed in frustration, leaning my head on the banister as I was on my way back downstairs. I was so tired of questioning whether I was good or not. I felt so conflicted and drained from this internal battle that I suddenly didn't want to stand. I sank down to the floor, sitting on the top stair and leaning against the post, staring at nothing.

The ring of the door bell was muted to me since I was so out of it, but my mother opening the door woke me up a little and I watched the evaluator come into the house. She was young, probably mid to late twenties with brown hair and green eyes. Her outfit consisted of plain black dress pants with a green top and jeans jacket thrown over her shoulders. She locked eyes with me as soon as she entered the house, and I could feel her thoughts, her emotions as she stepped over the thresh hold.

To my surprise, she didn't want to throw me away. She was curious, wanting to know how I ticked and how such a creature like me could exist. I was nothing but a project to her, but I wasn't good or bad in her sight—yet.

I narrowed my eyes at her and got up, going to my room and slamming the door audibly trying to make my point very clear: I didn't want to be messed with. Of course dense humans didn't get the message. She came up a few minutes later and tapped on my door. I then heard it opening and she peeked her head through, her eyes taking in the shape of my messy room as she came in uninvited and shut the door. I was lying out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and paying her no mind as she walked around and looked at stuff I was use to seeing every day.

"Do you ever clean this room?" she asked me suddenly.

I was expecting something about ghosts, maybe a few questions about how I felt about being a ghost, but never something like that. She sounded like my mom.

"I like it this way," I said absentmindedly as I started to gear myself up for what was going to be a battle of wits.

She sat down in my computer chair and swiveled it around to look at me. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, mimicking her stance and waited. I would just let her talk, no need for me to utter one word if I didn't want to—that I and wanted her to get the message that I was a little hostile for her purpose of being here.

"You don't like me do you?" she asked, making me blink at her question.

"I don't like it that I have to be analyzed," I told her truthfully. "I don't like to have to prove anything to anybody about where I stand."

"And where do you stand? With your powers that is."

I knew this was coming.

"I don't like to hurt people," I said, breaking eye contact and looking out my window. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"That doesn't answer my question. I want to know why you don't want to hurt people."

"It's wrong, I know it should be more complicated but it's not to me. It's just wrong to hurt people, even if they deserve it. I only hurt the ghosts that come out and try to take over the town."

I turned my head back to her to see her reaction. I didn't see much, but she seemed satisfied with the answer.

"Do you ever think about hurting people?" she asked after a moment.

"Don't you?" I asked back.

"I'm asking you."

"Yeah, sometimes, but I'll never act on it. I'm not a killer."

"Well, Danny, people won't see it that way. They'll see an immature teen with dangerous powers that could destroy them."

"So? They'll see you, a woman with lots of power and money, but you're just as dangerous as me. Everyone can kill, but everyone also has a choice. I have a choice in every action I take, as do you. I know the consequences of each action I take, as do you—I'm assuming. My choices reflect on who I am, and I intend to stay true to myself. I'm no killer, and I'm not a vengeful spirit looking for trouble. I'm just stuck here and I do the best that I can."

She was very quiet, scrutinizing my face as if she was looking for a lie, but she wouldn't find it. I wasn't lying anymore, I was tired of lying. She looked down in her lap, where for the first time I noticed the small tape recorder in her hands. She must have been recording the conversation from the start instead of taking notes like any other normal psychiatrist.

"Well, you're certainly not immature," she said, her smile amused as she looked back up at me. "Do you love your family?"

"Of course I do, they're my reason for existing in the first place."

"Can you elaborate on that?"

"Above all else, I protect my family. I fear for them because I love them, and I know for a fact that if I lose them, I lose my reason for existing. If that happens, then it's possible that I might go insane and become the monster people fear me to be. I know that's possible, and that's why I'll try anything to make sure it doesn't happen."

This time she looked a little confused, her brow furrowing in the center of her forehead for awhile before she continued.

"Just one more question Danny. If you were able to, would you get rid of your powers?"

I thought about that for a second. I had never been asked this question, and I remember that horrible first month when I first became like this. Wishing that my parents might be able to fix this if I ever told them. I had been so afraid back then, but now—

"No," I said with conviction. "These powers are who I am, a part of me. No matter what happens, I won't get rid of them. It would be just as painful as losing my family."

The evaluator nodded her head and turned off her recorder.

"Thank you Danny, it's been . . . insightful to meet you."

She got up and made her way over to my door, but I stopped her.

"Should I be prepared to run?" I asked her.

"No, as far as I can tell, you're a teen with troubles that no one can understand. You're no mindless ghost Danny, and that makes you all the more human."

She walked out, heading for the door without so much as a good bye.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Behold, I update once again!. Sorry I've been really inactive guys, but I promise that I am writing. I write when I get the chance and then I update as things complete themselves. Lately, things have been going smooth and since finals are almost here, expect a gap then perhaps constant updates on the active stories. Just go to my profile to see what is on a temporary hiatus and what is in the works. _**

* * *

_"So, how did the whole evaluator thing go?" _Tucker asked over the phone, and I could tell he was distracted with some sort of game because of the blasting noises in the background.

"Well, I think it went okay," I answered, uncertain about the whole thing. "She was nice and all, not condescending in any way."

_"That's a good thing right?"_

Of course, I should have remembered Tucker's limited vocabulary.

"Yes Tuck, that's a good thing, but I can't shake off the feeling that something's wrong."

_"Dude, the GIW have taken Clockwork and almost every other ghost in the Ghost Zone, not to point out that they have new kick-ghost-butt weapons. Of course you're going to be uneasy."_

"It's not just that Tucker, I think something bad is going to happen soon. It's like the bottle's being shaken and it's only a matter of time before it explodes."

_"I'm no good with analogies man, can you put it into tech-geek language?"_

"Ever thought about what the GIW what with all of the ghosts?"

There was a strained pause over the other line. I could hear the game noises grow faint and Tucker's footsteps as he walked away from his computer.

_"That's a good point,"_ Tucker had grown serious, which meant that what I said had troubled him. _"If they spill secrets, it's bad news for the rest of everyone—both ghost and human alike."_

"I know, that's why I want to break into GIW headquarters and free the ghosts."

_"Uh, you just got off the hook with them dude. If you break in and they catch you, there will be no mercy. You know that right?"_

"Yeah, but what other choice do I have?"

I had already thought long and hard about this. I might have jumped a hurtle with the evaluator, but the whole GIW system was a different story. No doubt they would keep trying to find ways to capture me, so if I slipped up—made some sort of mistake—they could probably take me away and no one would be able to fight them about it. This didn't help with the fact that I had to rescue Clockwork; the whole system of balance was beginning to unwind. I was jumpy, couldn't sleep, I knew instinctually that something was wrong and my head knew exactly what was causing this uneasy feeling. On top of this, I had a sneaking suspicion that things had been too quiet for too long. Clockwork said other ghosts were in hiding, and most likely those were the benevolent ghosts—the ones that didn't care for humans but didn't hurt them, the ones that just wanted to keep to themselves, but I couldn't say that they would act that way if their homes and friends were being threatened. I know I wouldn't. Something was going to happen, I just knew it.

* * *

After hanging up on Tucker, I put in a call to Valerie. She was still patrolling around town, knowing that I shouldn't show my face in public right now. No telling what people would do right now. She said that everything was all clear—very quiet and no ghostly activity. I told her to keep an eye out, but it sounded like she didn't believe me.

_"Get some sleep Fenton," _she told me before hanging up.

"Yeah right," I mumbled into the mouth piece before hanging up myself.

"You okay?"

I turned around to see Jazz standing by the stairwell, looking at me with concern in her eyes and thoughts.

"Twitchy," I said truthfully as I walked down the stairs.

"Why?"

"Don't know exactly, just know it's not a good feeling."

Jazz followed me into the kitchen and sat down where Dad was busy putting the finishing touches to a new device.

"Uh Dad, are you sure that's such a good idea with Danny in here?" Jazz asked as she stared at the thing in Dad's hands.

"Don't worry sweetheart, this won't hurt your brother one bit," Dad said loudly, sounding like his old bumbling self, and patting his invention.

"What is it exactly?" I asked, wary that I should take his word—things did have a tendency to blow up in his face.

"Oh, it's the Fenton Projector! After you telling me about your nightmares, I thought that maybe you're right about them having some meaning—can never tell with ghosts. Anyway, we can just put this on your head and then we can see what you're dreaming about!"

"So you'll dive into my subconscious and look at everything that is deep and secretive in my mind?" I said skeptically, and watched realization dawn on Dad's face.

"I guess I should really think things through," he muttered to himself while Jazz and I rolled our eyes. "Don't worry son, we'll find a way to work it out."

"I'm sure you will Dad," I told him while I grabbed a glass out of the cabinet. "Where's Mom?"

"She had to run into town. Some nonsense about paying all of that junk mail off."

"You mean the bills?" Jazz sighed loudly. "Really Dad."

"Hey, lay off Jazz, he's just joking," I told her reaching for the sink.

"And you would know how?" Jazz asked skeptically. "It's not like you can read minds—can you?"

"Nope," Dad spoke up for me, "Danny can read auras."

"What?" Jazz and I asked simultaneously.

"This is news to me," I said, sitting down beside Dad.

"Well, the way you described these odd feelings," Dad said, screwing something into the machine as he talked, "it got me thinking. Feeling a mind's thoughts really then reading them. That has grounds for reading auras, a feeling rather than an actual thought. When you pick up on a person, you can tell how they feel, and why—almost like reading their thoughts."

"Yeah, that describes it perfectly," I said, thinking about what he had said, but that uneasy feeling remained in the pit of my gut, no matter how hard I tried to banish it. "Now, if only I could shut it off."

Jazz had gotten up and gone into the den sometime while Dad and I were talking. I could hear the buzz of the television coming on, than Jazz's scream of horror. I didn't even hesitate. I ran into the den, ready to tear apart whatever it was that was attacking her, but I doubt the new T.V. would have appreciated it. Dad busted into the room a second later, waving some large gun and ready to fire, but where there was no ghost to tear apart, he pouted.

"Darn, why did you scream Jazzy?" he asked my sister.

Jazz just pointed to the T.V., and I sighed heatedly, kicking at the air and cursing under my breath as my dreadful feeling was proven to be true.

"This clip was taken just moments ago by an amateur with his cell phone," the news anchor woman was saying.

The clip was shaky and horribly jumpy with color and sound, but the image of five people running into the bank with heavy fire arms and black ski masks was pretty clear. Gun fire sounded in the bank, the short bursts of light from the guns and the screams of people agonizingly clear to my ears.

"That was ten minutes ago," the woman continued on as the clip ended and the camera focused on her as she stood outside the bank. "Since then, police and SWAT teams have been trying their best to diffuse the situation. There are an estimated amount of sixteen people still held up in the building, whether they are alive or not is uncertain."

"Danny, what are you—Danny?"

Dad looked to his side, but I wasn't there. I was too busy pacing on the ceiling and tearing my hair out. I know he looked up at me, but I didn't look back at him, too drawn into myself and my foolishness.

"Oh no," Jazz breathed, almost sounding like she was going to scream again. "Dad, didn't you say Mom was going to the bank?"

I stopped my pacing and looked down on the screen at her words. Even from upside down, I could make out the sharp, white points of the GAV in the parking lot. I had fled the house before I heard the next part of the report.

* * *

I had planned on getting in quietly, but I had never faced a situation like this. I was a ghost fighter: I fought ghosts, not humans. Yes, occasionally, I did have to diffuse a human situation, but car crashes and cat burglars were different from a hostage situation. This would require a bit more tact then just rushing in blindly with fists flying. I wouldn't be hurt by the bullets, but with sixteen other lives in there, including Mom, I had to be careful because they had the higher death rate compared to me.

I was quiet as I landed among the police line and saw the captain shouting out orders, he himself very tense and worried about the situation.

"Captain Hoss!" I yelled at him to get his attention, and the attention of everyone around me. "Give me an update."

I walked up to him, the crowd splitting for me and the TV cameras following in as close as the police and SWAT would let them.

"Phantom, I guess you heard the news," Hoss stated rather pathetically, but he was tired and tense, fearful and not wanting to lose any lives. "Listen, we think the best thing is for you to stay out of it."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"I have a better chance of getting those people out alive and you know it," I snapped at him. "Why not let me go through?"

"Because you're the ransom," Hoss seemed confused. "Didn't you watch the news?"

"I saw guns and came running, I didn't catch the whole thing."

"The men want you Phantom. They're apart of some anti-ghost organization and you are what they want."

My mouth parted slightly and my tough-guy mask slipped off of my face.

"I did this?" I asked him, sounding rather pathetic myself, but I couldn't override the guilt and shame that was building up in my chest. "My mother is in there."

Hoss put a hand on my shoulder and I looked at him.

"You didn't do anything, it's the men's fault," he said, taking over the tough-guy guise for me, but I could feel that he was very worried about this whole thing. "Come over to the van and stay on point, we'll work something out."

He led me over to the area where they had the electronics set up. I could see that they had hacked into the security cameras of the bank and were keeping an eye on the situation inside the building. I looked at each angle, searching for my mother's bright teal form, but I didn't see it. Perhaps she wasn't in the bank, maybe she made it out in time, but why didn't she call or was home by now if she was alright. No, the men must be holding her somewhere, away from the cameras that no one could see; including me unless I went in by myself. This was a deliberate attack on me, I was sure the men had targeted my family to get at me, and that filled me with such a rage that I couldn't express it.

The men were at each exit, watching the people as they lay on the floor, scared and panicked. The guns were in their hands, but they were common human weapons, no ecto weapons that I could see or feel from this far away from the building. I could feel the people though; their dread, their fears, and wondering if they were going to die that day or not. The rage was suppressed by their feelings; feelings that I couldn't ignore because they reminded me that I had to be careful here. Each one of those people had a life to live and I wasn't going to be the cause of any more trouble today.

"Phantom!" Hoss had called to me and I turned around to see another man walking up to me with him. "Phantom this is Agent Carol, he's in charge here."

I stuck out my hand but Agent Carol didn't seem to want to touch it. I put it back down by my side and looked at him.

"Look here kid," Carol ground out between his teeth as if me being here was a bad thing, or a personal annoyance. "I don't like you, I don't believe any of this ghost crap and I don't believe that what you are can exist. You look ready to go to some freak convention and I don't need some amateur vigilantly, who could be the cause of this whole mess in the first place, to gunk up my operation. Unfortunately, protocol says to keep you around, just in case something happens. Get over here and look at some mug shots."

"Yes sir Agent Skeptic," I saluted him and walked over to where he had pointed, him scowling at me with his face red and Hoss biting down on his tongue to try and not smirk.

I looked at the photos like Agent Carol wanted, but I didn't recognize any of the faces.

"Why did you have me do this?" I asked him, but he only snubbed me and walked away.

I guessed that these guys were linked to the men in the bank, or were the men in the bank. They didn't have their masks on anymore and the cameras must have gotten their profiles. I looked up at the TVs with the security vid-links on the screens and tapped my chin in thought.

"I can get in," I walked up to Agent Carol and Captain Hoss as they were discussing the next round of attack.

"Of course you can get in Phantom," Hoss said, but with something in his tone I didn't like. "But they're monitoring anything. They said that if we tried any funny stuff with you, they would know and shoot the hostages."

"But I bet they didn't expect me to get through that."

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder at the vid-screens in the van. Hoss looked at me with guarded thoughts, but Carol only shook his head.

"That is impossible, we already hacked the systems," he told me as if I was stupid.

"No, I can overshadow the equipment," I rolled my eyes at him. "My body can form into a type of energy close to electrons and I can travel with the current into the bank cameras and guide myself into the basement, or wherever the fuse box is. I can even control the cameras if something happens and give you a better view of the inside."

Carol looked at me as if I was crazy, but Hoss only blinked in a type of believing-disbelief at my suggestion.

"Come on!" I nearly shouted at them. "There are cameras everywhere in that bank right? Then how come the managing office isn't on the screens?"

Carol looked up at the screens while Hoss looked down and rubbed the back of his head.

"I can't find my mother with the other hostages, so that means they're keeping her somewhere you can't see her, AKA: the managing office where they cut off the vid feed! Let me do my job, let me help you."

There was on agonizingly slow minute when they did nothing other than stare at me. Then Carol brought his fist up and started to say something, no doubt something along the lines of 'get out of here you crazy menace to society', but surprisingly, Hoss stopped him before he could get a syllable out.

"Alright," the officer nodded his head at me and shocking his superior into silence. "I trust you Phantom, but you can't show yourself to them. Just try and get the layout of the situation and report back."

"Hook a microphone to that thing and I can do you one better," I said with a wink.

* * *

It took some time to find a mike that would fit the equipment, and the only person I trusted to use the equipment was Tucker. After half an hour of arguing with Carol, he finally called in Tucker to make me get off of his back. When he got there, Tucker looked scared out of his pants, but when he saw me, he seemed to straighten out and walk confidently, and once he got his hands on the wires and keys of the vid equipment, he was definitely back to his nerdy-confident self, but still nervous. I couldn't blame him, I was too, but I was also sure that we would get those people out alive.

"Okay dude," Tucker said after he hooked up the equipment and put on a Fenton Phone. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," I nodded at him. "Guide me through the whole thing Tuck, I'm counting on you."

He gave me a thumbs up and I nodded to him again, our silent way of saying we had each other's back. I took a deep breath before letting intangibility fall over me and I plunged into the depths of the wires and links from here to the bank security system. I felt the breaking down of my body as the current took me through the TVs, my face on every one of them and behind me were the rooms that were being watched in the building. I felt separated, yet whole, it's kind of complicated to explain, and tingly.

"By god," Carol gasped, his mouth hanging wide open and it looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

"Might want to close that before birds start nesting in it," I pointed out with a smirk.

He jumped probably ten feet into the air.

"He can see us?"

"For now," Tucker muttered. "Okay dude, just follow the current out and into the building's security system. If you can get me into the computers too, that would be great."

"Check," I saluted to him and disappeared.

A split, dizzy second later, I was in the building, looking out through at least ten different points of view.

"Okay Tuck, I'm in, but in the cameras, every single one," I informed him.

"No prob, you just need to find the fuse box, then you can start looking for that dead camera."

"Okay, find the fuse box, where's the fuse box?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"I'm not the tech-geek here!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Tucker said and I heard the clicks of keys. "Okay, I think the best way I can describe it is find where all of the electricity is concentrated, just follow that since the whole building's power his basically in the fuse box."

"Well, it's worth a shot."

It didn't take long, I found the source running back into the building and I followed it. Soon enough, I was blasted back into real space and looking at a rather dank basement and the fuse box was behind me. I opened it up and spotted the spilt wires pretty quickly, reconnecting them was a synch and I was back in the electric current, trying to find my mom.


End file.
